Out of the Dark
by AlkalineTeegan
Summary: Will secrets tear apart Tony's and Gibbs' new relationship?  This began as a SLASH chapter of "In the Dark" and ended up being its own story.  Completed fic posted: eleven chapters plus an epilogue.  Warnings for language and violence.  Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Yeah, um… so I wrote some slash! I know it's not everyone's cup of tea—it wasn't even _my_ cup of tea, until I read some really good fics by some really good authors. And hey, I'm a big fan of open-mindedness so I decided to give it a shot, mostly as a challenge to see if I could do it. Turns out I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you, my lovely readers, will enjoy reading it just as much.

This started as a slash chapter of "In the Dark" (hence the title), but it grew and took on a life of its own so I decided to make it a separate story. It's also a departure from my normal style in that I'm posting the entire story today, in multiple chapters.

One final note: If you hate this because of the writing, the characterizations, the plot, the style, etc., feel free to tell me. But if you hate it simply because you're homophobic, I'd appreciate it if you kept your "mouth" as closed as your mind. Thanks!

* * *

"Gibbs!"

Leroy Jethro Gibbs had been called a lot of things in his life. His father called him Leroy. His agents called him Boss. He often introduced himself as Special Agent Jethro Gibbs. He'd also been called a lot of things that were not his name, but were no less fitting. But his precious little girl had called him Daddy, and her pretty mother had looked at him once, smiled that radiant smile, and said, "I'm just gonna call you Gibbs."

So he figured it was fitting that Tony—his agent, his friend, and recently his lover—called him that, too. At first, it had been out of habit, but when Gibbs had questioned him on it—reminding himself to ask his partner, rather than demand of his agent—Tony had tried all kinds of names.

Leroy and Jethro were dismissed as too formal, Lee and Roy as too unfamiliar, LJ as too clunky, Jeth as too … laughable, Tony had said. Gibbs had listened with a patient amusement that Tony was slowly getting used to, and then he had offered his own suggestion when Tony had veered into dangerous "Honeybuns" and "Babycakes" territory.

"_You could just call me J," he said, expecting Tony to rattle off a list of explicit euphemisms starting with that initial. _

_But all Tony said was a firm "no," the green eyes Gibbs had come to love going dark and shuttered. _

"_And why not?" Gibbs asked, wincing as he realized he should have left that tone at the office. _

"_I said no," Tony repeated. "What about—"_

"_Hey," Gibbs said, not caring about the sharp tone this time. "That would've worked a month ago. When I was just your boss. Why won't you just tell me?" _

"_Don't wanna talk about it," Tony said sullenly. _

_Gibbs crossed the room and put his hand on Tony's cheek, leaning in close. "How am I supposed to get close to you if all you do is shove me away?"_

_Tony turned his head and nuzzled Gibbs' palm, his lips as soft as a pony's muzzle. "I never shove you away_," _he murmured, his eyes still dark—but for another reason, Gibbs noticed. _

_He dropped his hand and stepped back, getting a wounded look from his young lover. "Not physically, no," he said, ignoring his body's response to the pout on Tony's face. _

_Tony paused, obviously debating. "Partner in Peoria's name was Jason," he said, huffing a soft breath in defeat. "Jay to his friends." _

"_And you weren't?" Gibbs asked. _

"_Oh, I thought we were. I called him Jay all the time. Went to a few ball games together, backyard barbeques with his family. His little boy called me Uncle T," he said, the grimace on his face contrasting with the seemingly happy memories. _

_And then Gibbs found out why._

"_Until he found out I was bi and arranged a little get-together in a dark alley so I could meet his real friends—who apparently shared his views on people like me." _

_Gibbs was silent a moment before leaning over and planting a kiss on Tony's lips. "People like us, Tony." He pulled back, letting the simmering anger show. "Now tell me this guy's last name," he demanded, his tone menacing. _

_But Tony just laughed softly. "No, Gibbs." _

"_You gonna tell me how bad he hurt you?" Gibbs asked, still imagining a dark alley all his own. _

"_Not tonight," Tony said, studying Gibbs' reaction. "Maybe not ever, considering that look on your face."_

_They stared at each other, testing wills that had evolved now that they were not simply boss and subordinate. Gibbs had never realized just how long Tony could stay silent when he wanted to. _

_Finally, Tony said, "So. Gibbs." _

"_So what?" _

_And then Tony smiled, the one that made Gibbs wonder what had taken him so long to give in to Tony's subtle—and not so subtle—advances. "So," he said, still smiling brightly. "I'm just gonna call you Gibbs." _

So while it wasn't uncommon for Tony to call him Gibbs at home, the urgency with which the name was called was definitely an oddity.

"What?" Gibbs called, his tone carrying the annoyance of being in the middle of a long, knotted investigation and having given in to Tony's repeated nudgings to let the team get some rest and come back at it fresh in the morning. He heard a thump and imagined Tony dropping onto the couch—the old, ratty couch he kept threatening to burn if Gibbs didn't let him replace it soon. He was met with silence so he called up, "Can't you come down here? I'm busy."

There was a long pause, and then the basement door opened, and Gibbs looked up to see only Tony's shadow.

"Need to run home for something," came his tight voice. "I'll be back later."

Gibbs made it to the top of the stairs just as the front door clicked shut. He thought about hauling his young lover back in the house by the scruff of his neck and demanding answers. But he didn't. One thing stopped his anger dead in its tracks. It had been a long time since Tony had referred to his apartment as "home."

So Gibbs let him go.

Even though he didn't like it. Tony had been acting strangely all day, and while Gibbs wanted to believe it was simply the frustrating case, his gut wouldn't quite buy it. At work, they often paired off with other team members so they wouldn't be together—and possibly distracted—but it wasn't exclusive. That would be too suspicious. But it had seemed odd to him that Tony had practically hauled McGee out of the squad room to go talk to a suspect that afternoon.

Avoiding suspicion was also the reason Tony kept his apartment. "Gotta keep up appearances," Gibbs heard his lover saying. He smiled softly at the boat, remembering the first time he had called Tony out on that mantra of his—and how glad he was that he had.

_Gibbs and DiNozzo were on their way to interview a witness, with Tony chattering away a mile a minute about the latest action flick he had seen while on a date with "the hottest human being alive." And Gibbs was indulging the endless talk, something he found himself doing more and more lately, but for reasons he didn't quite understand. He told himself this time it was because Tony sounded genuinely happy for the first time a long time. _

_He did not examine why his agent's happiness should matter to him. _

_They pulled up outside the suburban house and got out of the car, Tony giving a very male jogger a very long leer—only to realize his boss had been watching his lustful eyes the entire time. _

"_Uh, I, um…" Tony stammered, blushing ten shades of red as he stopped short on the sidewalk. He swallowed hard and was obviously trying to think of a way out of what he deemed a disastrous situation. "Boss, I am—"_

"_Not as picky about gender as you'd like everyone to think?" Gibbs finished for him. He shrugged and turned back to the house. "Don't care, DiNozzo. Who you sleep with doesn't change the agent you are."_

_Gibbs made it halfway up the front walk before he realized Tony was still frozen beside the car, green eyes wide with shock and some other emotion Gibbs couldn't read. _

_Until he marched back down and saw the tension, plain as day. _

"_Are you even listening to me?" Gibbs asked, throwing up his hands in frustration. _

_Tony flinched at the movement, his hands coming up to guard himself against physical blows. _

"_Hey," Gibbs said firmly, settling a hand on Tony's shoulder and trying to ignore the shame and fear burning in his agent's eyes. "Second b's for bastard, Tony, not bigot. I hired you for how you work, not how you play—or who you play with." _

_Tony blinked several times, his words coming out in a squeak. "You've known since—"_

"_Baltimore," Gibbs confirmed, his mouth tightening at a particularly bad memory. "One of your fellow officers made some crack about me knowing 'who I was getting into bed with.' I should've hit him. But that jackass didn't know me," Gibbs said, looking at Tony with disappointment. "I thought you did." _

_Tony dropped his gaze to the sidewalk. "I'm sorry, Boss," he said quietly, feeling the sting of Gibbs' words. "I know you're not a bigot." _

_Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "That why you thought I was going to hit you?"_

_Tony grimaced. "Habit," was all he said. _

_And that one word made Gibbs' blood pressure skyrocket. He took a breath to calm down, knowing Tony was still slightly on edge—and now knowing exactly why. Certain facts about Tony's past slid into place. "Don't even think about running away again, DiNozzo. This doesn't change a thing about your place on this team." Tony didn't speak, but Gibbs saw the small nod—and the massive gratitude in his eyes. "Now can we go interview this witness before he forgets whatever he probably never saw in the first place?" _

_Tony smiled, following his boss up to the front door of the cookie-cutter house, exactly the same as the one beside it, except for the color of the trim. _

_Gibbs knocked, looking around impatiently, as if he hadn't just had a seriously personal conversation with his agent. Because to him, it really didn't change anything. In fact, he found himself feeling relieved—with a hint of something else he couldn't quite place. He didn't have time to examine it because the door finally opened, and the "witness" took one look at Gibbs' NCIS ID and bolted, shoving past the agents and knocking Gibbs into a flower bed. _

"_Go!" the agent yelled from the ground, flexing his bad knee and getting to his feet as DiNozzo took off after the fleeing suspect. He forced himself upright and ignored the aching joint, running after both of them. _

_DiNozzo was moving with all the grace of the standout college athlete he had been—the athlete he still was, judging by his speed as he closed the distance on the suspect. Gibbs suddenly realized he was watching Tony with what was probably the same leer his agent had given the jogger, but he shoved those thoughts out of his head as he tried to keep up with the younger men. _

_Because Gibbs was several long paces behind DiNozzo, he could see everything that the agent, intent only on his prey, couldn't. _

_And so Gibbs watched, fear squeezing the remaining air from his overworked lungs as Tony hopped nimbly off a curb—and straight into the path of a car headed the wrong way down the one-way street. _

_Brakes squealed and Gibbs could smell the burning rubber from the locked-up tires, but the driver's efforts were too little, too late, and Tony bounced off the hood of the car, his body rolling up the glass before being spit back onto the pavement by the momentum of the vehicle skidding to a stop. _

_Gibbs froze—his warning shout still stuck in his throat. _

_His every instinct was screaming at him to MOVE, to get to his partner, to help him. A part of him that was still functioning, like background music in a crowded restaurant, saw the suspect barely slow before continuing his flight away from the agents, saw the driver's stunned face, saw the spider-web cracks in the windshield. _

_But all Gibbs was seeing was Tony's unmoving body, crumpled in a heap on the pavement where he had landed. _

_Finally, Gibbs snapped out of his shock and ran to his fallen agent, motioning for the driver to stay in the car. He knew it was unlikely the suspect would come running back, but he waved the driver off all the same. Gibbs sank to his knees, fear in his laserlike blue eyes as they roamed Tony's motionless body, and his hands shook as he reached out to check for a pulse. _

_The second his fingers touched Tony's throat, the downed agent rolled onto his back with a groan. Gibbs' hands went to either side of his neck, trying to keep him still and supported. _

"_Dammit, DiNozzo, don't move!" Gibbs snapped, concern making his tone sharp. _

"_Suspect," Tony said, reaching up to remove Gibbs' hands from his neck. _

"_Long gone," Gibbs said, looking down into pained green eyes and wishing Tony would stop moving. "You stay right here." _

_Gibbs wasn't expecting Tony to laugh. But then, when did DiNozzo ever do what was expected of him? _

"_Not going anywhere," he said, wrapping a hand around Gibbs' wrist and trying to sit up. "Not with the choke hold you've got going on here." _

_Gibbs moved one hand to rest flat against his agent's chest. "Stop moving."_

"_I'm fine, Boss," Tony returned, wincing as he shifted slightly. "But I've got this rock jabbing me in the back and I'd like to get off it. So if you don't mind?" _

_With thoughts of shattered spines and other assorted broken bones, Gibbs ran his hands over Tony's body, starting with his arms, his chest, sliding under to feel his back and moving down each leg only to come back to his chest to repeat the gentle examination. _

"_Hey," Tony said, his hands locking around Gibbs' wrists, stilling them on his belly. "If you're done feeling me up, Boss? Are you gonna kiss me, too?" _

_The firm touch and dancing green eyes snapped Gibbs out of his concerned trance and he rolled his eyes. "In your dreams, DiNozzo." _

_The hands on his wrists tightened slightly, and Gibbs found himself looking at the suddenly serious face of his partner. "Yeah," Tony said softly. "Sometimes." _


	2. Chapter 2

Gibbs shook off the memories and continued sanding, marveling at how Tony had peeled himself off the pavement that day with nothing more than a few scrapes and a bruise from hip to knee on his right leg. Gibbs wished his first memories of seeing Tony naked in his bed had been without the massive discoloration marring an otherwise perfect body, but really, he didn't care because he got to see Tony all the time now. All of him, all the time.

A glance at the clock revealed he had been working—and daydreaming—for more than an hour, plenty of time for Tony to run to his apartment, get whatever mystery item he had so suddenly needed, and get his ass back to his real home.

Gibbs' hand stilled on the plank as he realized just how much the "home" comment had bothered him. Unlike Tony, Gibbs the agent and Gibbs the man were quite similar: He was just as demanding in his relationships as he was on the job. Just ask any of his ex-wives.

But that didn't mean that he was incapable of love. Far from it. But it did mean he had to be with someone who could interpret his grunts and growls, and correctly read his many silences. And be able to brush them off when needed.

Shannon had always been able to.

And Gibbs thought Tony could, too. And of course there were some missteps from time to time—on both their parts. Trust was something that Tony did not hand out freely, and Gibbs often found himself frustrated, feeling like an outsider looking in. It was why Gibbs had insisted they spend time equally at both of their places in the beginning, so he could be with Tony in his own space—and get to know both.

When it became apparent they were both more comfortable at the house—Tony joking that Gibbs was better around his boat—Gibbs had made a conscious effort to make Tony feel at home. He never called it "his" house or "his" things, never insisted Tony pick up after himself to keep "his" house up to his Marine standards.

Okay, so maybe he made Tony make _their_ bed when he was the last one out of it—which was often—but Gibbs left the quarter in his pocket.

Gibbs still distinctly remembered the first time Tony had called this place "home" and it warmed him more than the outrageously expensive bourbon Tony kept buying him. That warmth turned to worry as he glanced at his watch again. He mentally headslapped himself, just as he always did when he found himself inordinately worried about his lover. Their jobs were stressful enough without Gibbs freaking out every time Tony got in a car, or got a cold, or attempted to cook.

He smiled and shook his head, remembering his shock upon finding out—in the best way possible—that not only was Tony not a threat in the kitchen, but he was pretty damned skilled there. The smile faded and he gave in, pulling his cell to give Tony a call. He figured he could come up with something they needed from the store.

The cell rang in his hand and he couldn't help grinning at the name on the display.

"Hey," Gibbs said, his now-customary off-duty greeting.

"Hey," Tony said back, and that one word was all it took for Gibbs to get the feeling his young lover was distracted.

Gibbs waited for an explanation or a promise to be back soon, but all he got was silence humming down the line. His famous gut began to churn and he thought about asking Tony if he was all right. But then he remembered how Tony had been avoiding him practically all day—and his gut hit spin-cycle.

"Where are you?" Gibbs demanded. _You belong here with me, dammit,_ he thought, the memory of Tony lying crumpled on the pavement still fresh in his mind, even though that had been months ago.

"Home," Tony said, unaware that the word only heightened Gibbs' ire. "Don't feel so great. I'm gonna stay here tonight."

Gibbs was silent, thinking about how Tony always complained _specifically_ about whatever was bothering him. He felt the tug of a smile, thinking about how colorful those descriptions could get. Gibbs had never heard so many euphemisms for throwing up before that one weekend with Tony and the flu. The smile faded, though, and he wondered why Tony was lying to him now.

_If he's even lying_, the rational part of his mind reminded. Gibbs made his tone softer and asked, "You want me to come over there?"

"No," Tony said quickly.

_Oh, he's lying_, the more jealous part of that mind returned. "Why not?"

"I just…" Tony said.

"Just what?" Gibbs asked caustically.

Gibbs heard the small sigh on the line, and he opened his mouth to apologize, something he had no rules about when it came to their relationship.

"Just need to sleep," Tony said, cutting him off. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

Gibbs heard the soft snap of Tony's phone flipping shut, and he stared down at the cell, as if it were the one acting strangely. Gibbs knew he should just leave it and go to bed. He could ask Tony what was up in the morning.

So he tried to sand, to grind out his frustration and smooth over those feelings of being an outsider that he could never manage to completely shake. In all honesty, Tony was a hard person to love—because he was a hard person to really _know._ Every time Gibbs thought he had finally broken down the walls, he would turn around and find a new one, guarding a different facet of the many sides of Tony DiNozzo. It wasn't that Gibbs didn't understand Tony's need for those walls; he knew more about his lover's disgusting excuse for a childhood than he ever wanted to know. It was that he wished, with all his heart, that Tony wouldn't need those walls with _him._

Gibbs threw the sander aside with a growl of frustration. _Is it really so bad that I just want him to let me in? Am I really so bad that he still doesn't trust me?_ Gibbs realized he still didn't know the entire story about Tony's close-minded partner in Peoria. He had made a few calls a while back and learned that Tony had been hospitalized for nearly a week between his transfer from there to Philadelphia, but that was all his contact had been able to dig up—along with the fact that one Jason Redman was still on the force there. Gibbs didn't even know why knowing the whole story mattered, but he knew the more he pushed Tony for it, the more Tony pushed him away. And that in itself told him there was much more of that story.

"_You never did tell me your old partner's last name," Gibbs said, his tone casual as they reclined on the ratty, old couch in front of the fireplace. It had been weeks since Tony had told him the story, but Gibbs' gut kept screaming that it hadn't been the _entire_ story. _

"_Nope," Tony agreed, his own casual words contrasting with the tensing of his body as he lay tucked against Gibbs' side. _

"_You ever going to?" Gibbs asked, his hand trailing lazily up and down Tony's bare back, drawing a shiver from his lover. _

"_Nope," Tony said, turning smoky green eyes up to Gibbs' face before leaning in to kiss him. _

"_Hey," Gibbs said softly as he pulled his mouth away. "Why won't you just tell me?" _

"_Like you haven't already looked him up," Tony said, pushing away and trying to disentangle from Gibbs' body. _

_But Gibbs just pulled him closer, looping an arm around his back and grabbing a wrist tightly. He looked slightly down into Tony's eyes. "I haven't." _

_And at that point, Gibbs' inquiries had been directed only at Tony. _

"_Jason Redman," Tony said, relaxing again into the comforting embrace. "And you know the rest so can we just get back to the reason we're both naked here?" _

"_I don't know the rest," Gibbs said softly, his thumb moving in slow circles over the almost delicate bones in Tony's wrist. "Because you won't let me in." _

_Tony huffed a sigh against Gibbs' chest. "He and his friends kicked the shit out of me one night after he found out I wasn't as straight as I led everyone to believe. What more is there to say?" _

_Gibbs, the investigator, should have shut up and let Gibbs, the boyfriend, just say thank you. But Gibbs, the investigator, never gave up that easily. "How did he find out?" _

_Tony's entire body went tense again, and Gibbs could practically feel him slowly unclenching each and every muscle. "Overheard a rumor." _

_Gibbs lifted his head and craned to look at Tony's face. "He was your partner and he just took someone else's word on that?" _

"_Not exactly," Tony said tightly, pulling away again._

_And Gibbs, not wanting to hurt him or make him feel trapped, let him go. He watched Tony step back into the pants they had stripped off with such abandon, and Gibbs suddenly felt guilty. Maybe Tony had a good reason to hide whatever had happened back in Peoria. _

"_Hey," he said softly. "I'm sorry, okay? Just come back here?" _

Tony had stayed that night, and the memories made Gibbs remember that Tony's mistrust of people was a big part of the reason he was so guarded. It was why he often preferred to lick his wounds in private.

Gibbs looked at his cell and thought about calling to tell Tony that he was coming over anyway, that he didn't care if Tony was sick and would sleep the whole time. Hell, Gibbs had practically made a pastime out of watching Tony sleep, finding the quiet stillness a soothing foil to the rambunctiousness of the man when he was awake. With a determined nod, Gibbs headed up the stairs, stopping by the pantry to grab a can of soup on his way out the door.

The ride through the darkened city was boring with no traffic to play racecars with, and Gibbs found his thoughts wandering once again, the home movies in his head skipping back to the night Tony had played bumper cars with that Buick.

"_Gibbs!" Tony yelled from his place on the old couch, a heating pad easing the ache from his badly bruised thigh. _

_Gibbs looked up at the ceiling of the basement, his expression torn between an amused grin and utter confusion. Tony had been flirting with him since getting checked out at the hospital—and it made Gibbs realize Tony had _always_ flirted with him, just not always in such blatant ways. The worst part was that Gibbs had no idea how to feel about it. He had always considered himself to be as straight as could be. Sure he had three ex-wives, but they had all been _wives_ at some point. Gibbs had never had feelings for any man before Tony, but he also had meant it when he said he wasn't a bigot. And you couldn't know a person like Abby without learning a thing or two about open-mindedness. _

_What was it that Tony had said while standing there in the hospital, clutching ineffectively at the gown to keep his ass from hanging out? "I don't fall in love with anatomy, Gibbs. People, not parts, ya know?" _

_Gibbs had to admit that Tony, as a person, was one extremely attractive human being. And not just physically. Sure, he was fun to look at, but he was also fun to be around, a fact that had not escaped Gibbs' notice in the years they had worked together. He knew he could always count on Tony to lift him—and the team, too, of course—out of the darkness that came with their chosen professions. But more than that, Tony's smile would sometimes awaken a place in Gibbs that hadn't stirred since Shannon's death. He already was aware that no one knew him better than Tony did—the younger man was already his best friend. _

_So why couldn't they be more?_

_So Gibbs just took the basement steps two at a time, arriving in front of Tony a moment later. He surveyed the remotes, magazines, water bottles, various snacks and the heating pad on what even the ex-Marine had to admit was a seriously painful-looking bruise poking out from his bright-red gym shorts. _

"_You said to yell if I needed anything," Tony said, the smile firmly in place despite the scrapes and bruises. _

"_And what more could you possibly need?" Gibbs asked, fighting a smile himself. _

_Tony went suddenly serious, all flirtation dropped as green eyes filled with that need. _

"_You." _

Gibbs smiled at that memory as he walked down the hall to Tony's apartment. He felt the smile fade and a wisp of unease creep in as he realized just how long it had been since they had been here for any longer than to grab some clothes or yet another DVD that Tony just couldn't live without.

He pulled his keys from his pocket with a shrug and told himself not to worry about it—maybe Tony just preferred his apartment, with its bedroom and attached bath, when he was sick. They _had_ spent the entire flu weekend here for just that reason.

Gibbs was about to slide the key into the lock when he heard a loud noise from inside the apartment.

Followed by a long moan.

Gibbs had heard Tony make all kinds of noises, both in the years they had been working together and the months they had been partners in a much different sense of the word. He did impressions, faked explosions while describing sake bombs, squealed and squeaked after headslaps, and Gibbs had seen Tony in plenty of real pain. But in all the headslaps, concussions, bumper cars with Buicks, and more importantly, in all their time spent in bed together, Gibbs had never heard Tony moan like that.

All of Tony's odd behavior that day combined with his quick exit from the house and the quick dismissal of a visit had Gibbs suddenly imagining his young lover being shoved against the wall by some man—or woman—trying to shove a tongue down Tony's throat. Thoughts of someone else's hands on his Tony's body had Gibbs wanting to break down the door.

But there came another moan, long and low and so foreign that Gibbs wondered if it was even Tony's, and he turned from the door, jamming the soup can back into his coat pocket and wondering how he could have been so stupid.

Gibbs swallowed his disgust and slammed a hand against the elevator button, realizing that the moans had been coming from just on the other side of the door to the apartment.

Tony and his latest conquest hadn't even made it out of the short entryway before tearing each other's clothes off.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony hadn't even made it out of the short entryway before the migraine conquered his entire being, forcing him to the floor where he lay with his coat still wrapped tightly around him.

He knew the shaking was more from the intense pain than the temperature but he still curled into the long, dark jacket, breathing in its scent and wishing its owner were here with him. He had grabbed it earlier without thinking—his only thoughts that he needed to get to his medication, and fast—but now, as he breathed deeply into the soft material, he wondered if it hadn't been a subconscious attempt at self-comfort.

He felt his cell digging into his side as he lay on the hard floor, panting through the pain, and he knew one quick call to Gibbs would have the man charging to his side as fast as humanly possible. Perhaps faster, considering Gibbs' driving.

But he hesitated, his well-rooted insecurities railing at him from inside a head that would have preferred silence. _Yeah, call him. First you tell him you're gay, and then drop on him that you get migraines that make you cry like a little girl. _Tony snorted in disgust, only to moan again and wonder how the hell he was going to make it to the bathroom to retrieve his needles. _That's it. Do it. Just give him another reason to see that you're not worth the risk to his career, his friends, his life. Give him another reason to decide he's had enough with this little experiment in sexuality. _

Tony silently told the voices in his head to shut the hell up so he could think. And then he realized thinking wasn't going to get him to his little black case.

But crawling would.

So Tony pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, knowing no one was going to come help him. _You should have just told him what was going on. You knew he noticed you being weird today—and he definitely noticed when you grabbed the Probie like a lifeline just to get away from him. Thank hell McGee was too preoccupied trying to figure out Gibbs' bad mood to notice the symptoms of this migraine brewing. Thank hell I've been able to hide these rare trips to hell from them all. _

Tony made it to the bathroom but had to stop and rest his head on the cool tile floor. Some rational part of his mind wondered why he tried so hard to hide his condition from them. The rest of his mind was dodging bullets of pain streaking through his aching head and could think of nothing but getting his hands on the needles that would put a stop to his agony. He pulled himself up, only to slump against the cabinets, forcing him to reach up blindly to root around in the drawer until his hand closed over the case.

He slid down onto his back in the blackness of the room and made quick work of the alcohol wipe before tossing the wrapper aside to land… wherever. He really didn't care. He injected himself quickly, gasping a little as the needle bit into his skin. He let the syringe fall to the floor beside him and he kept his hands pressed to his belly as it churned sickly.

His mind, still trying to dodge the pain, floated back to the day he had almost been run down, and he imagined the hands on his stomach were Gibbs' again. Tony had never been more scared than that moment when he had admitted his dreams—his feelings—to his boss. There were days he still expected to wake up in a hospital, his relationship with Gibbs nothing more than coma dreams from his run-in with that Buick.

_You watch too many movies_.

Tony choked on a gasp at the words Gibbs had said so many times, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in his lover's arms, a calloused hand moving slowly up and down his back in that way that made Tony feel like the only person in Gibbs' world—the only one who mattered. And even though it was clichéd—and not exactly a manly, gun-toting federal agent type thought—Tony felt safe with Gibbs.

And it was an odd feeling. Tony had heard friends—gay and straight, male and female—talk about feeling safe with the ones they loved, but Tony had never understood those feelings. Sure, he'd smiled and nodded and faked his way through those conversations, but never had he lay down at night, wrapped up in the arms of someone whom he trusted, who would protect him—even if it was only from the demons of his nightmares—who really, honestly loved him.

Until Gibbs.

So Tony lay there on his bathroom floor, huddled into himself as though to keep out the pain, and he wondered why Gibbs was so far away at that moment when Tony needed him most.

_Because you pushed him away. Like you push everyone away._

The thoughts weren't helping, but Tony could no sooner shove them out of his head than he could the excruciating bursts from the migraine. He wondered amid the bouts of nausea if Gibbs' famous gut was feeling anything like his own roiling belly at that moment, but then he shook it off, feeling stupid and more than a little silly.

Tony groaned as the pain attacked with a new vengeance, and he desperately tried to ignore it, to force his thoughts to a better place until the medication calmed the raging storm in his head. He wasn't surprised when that place turned out to be the night he almost died—and instead learned how to really live.


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs slammed his way back into the house. _His _house—because he would never share it with Tony again. He thought back to that first night together, before they had even taken off a shirt, and Gibbs had made it clear he wanted an exclusive relationship. Tony had agreed easily, and Gibbs had believed him.

_There was your first mistake, Agent Gibbs,_ he berated himself as he ignored the boat and the basement and went for a hot shower instead. _You ignored facts… evidence, even. Tony's always been a player, and while you knew some of those Danielles were actually Daniels, you knew he wasn't lying about the number of those conquests. _

Gibbs turned his face up to the near-scalding spray and tried to let the water wash the thoughts out of his mind. But instead of feeling the hot liquid sluice over his body, all he could feel were Tony's hands.

_The last time we were in this shower…_

Gibbs slapped the faucet off with a low growl, his eyes landing on the expensive shampoo Tony had slowly gotten him hooked on. The scent was so light it was barely there, indescribable really. But as Gibbs stared at the bottle, he could smell nothing but Tony, and he drew back and punched the tile wall as hard as he could. Pain raced up his arm, but it dulled in comparison to gaping hole in his chest.

_So that's why he never let me in. There wasn't enough room for me _and _his other lovers. _Gibbs thought back to the many brush-offs he had received while trying to piece together what exactly had happened between Tony and his partner Jason. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter, but he knew it wasn't true. Shannon—and moreso Kelly's birth—had taught him that it was necessary to be able to share pain before being able to share real joy.

If Tony didn't trust him with his past hurts, how could he ever trust Gibbs with his happiness?

_Speaking of hurts_, Gibbs thought, looking down at bruised knuckles and feeling lucky he hadn't broken anything. He knew the pain of broken bones. It shouldn't have shocked him that broken hearts hurt this much worse. Shannon and Kelly had about broken _him_, but theirs was not a deliberate betrayal.

Gibbs clenched his injured hand into a fist, feeling his skin stretching over swollen joints, and he concentrated on the burning pain. He closed his eyes and let his head drop, only to have the backs of his eyelids light up with images of Tony's smile, his green eyes dancing as he teased about the ratty couch or made suggestions for vacations they could sneak off to together.

Gibbs made his way into the bedroom, but he stopped short at the sight of the rumpled comforter and haphazardly thrown pillows. Tony had been the last one out that morning, and Gibbs felt physically sick at the thought of trying to sleep there without his lover's body wrapped around his. He turned with a snort of disgust, thinking he might have to move this time because he was running out of bedrooms to turn into lonely storage bays filled with broken futures.

He thought about going down to the boat but dismissed the idea quickly because he didn't want to wake up under it. He had enough pains to deal with. So he sank onto the couch—the one Tony had begged, pleaded, ranted and cajoled over—and after a long, long while, he fell into a fitful sleep.

It was no small wonder that he dreamed of Tony.

"_You," Tony said from the couch, looking up at Gibbs with wanton eyes. _

_Gibbs just stood there, knowing he should have been expecting this. He should have figured out what he wanted before inviting Tony to stay with him after his agent had flat-out told him how he figured into his dreams. But honestly, Gibbs had figured he would have more time, considering Tony could barely move without pain. And Tony was good at masking pain. But the Buick was apparently better at inflicting it._

_He should have known it would take more than a run-in with a two-ton vehicle to derail Tony's thoughts from sex. _

_Gibbs watched panic evict the lust from Tony's eyes. "Oh shit, Boss," he gasped, throwing the heating pad off him and fighting his various aches to stand, if a bit shakily. "I thought you wanted… And you were being so nice at the hospital… But it was because you were glad I wasn't dead or something, right? Oh, shit. I'm sorry. I'll leave—"_

"_Hey," Gibbs said, grabbing a rather unsteady Tony by his left elbow and right shoulder to avoid the worst of the bruising and grated skin. "You're not going anywhere. And I…"_

_Tony swallowed hard, blinking away dizziness. "Now's not such a good time to leave me hanging, Boss." He brought up a hand to grab Gibbs' arm to keep from falling over. "I mean that in a lot of ways." _

_Gibbs could feel the tension in the muscles quivering under his hands. Standing face to face with Tony, their bodies only inches apart as Gibbs held on to him to keep him upright, Gibbs felt a little thrill race through him. "You should stop calling me 'Boss' right now." _

_Panic erupted in green eyes and Tony tried to pull away. _

"_I'd headslap you if I didn't think you'd fall over right now," Gibbs said wryly, pulling Tony closer. "It's not because you're fired. It's because I'd feel awkward doing this." _

_Gibbs ignored his nervousness, his inexperience with men, the fact that it was his subordinate trembling against his body. He leaned in and planted a kiss firmly on Tony's lips, his breath puffing out softly in a half-laugh as Tony gave a muted squeak of surprise. Gibbs was not nearly as surprised when Tony deepened the kiss, his hands sliding around and up Gibbs' back. He returned the gesture, his hands moving over Tony's shoulders as he lost himself in the younger man's mouth, finally admitting to himself that he had wondered a time or two what this would feel like. _

"_Shit!" _

_Tony backed out of the embrace, wincing and making Gibbs realize he had stroked a hand over the road rash on Tony's left shoulder. _

_He held up his hands. "Tony, I'm so sorry." _

_Tony drew a shaky breath and groaned softly as he eased his battered body back onto the couch. He looked up at Gibbs. "Whoa, there. Rule No. 6." _

_Gibbs just gave him a look. "I'm not exactly sure how this is going to work," he admitted, "but work rules can stay at work." _

"_This?" Tony asked, a million questions burning in his eyes. _

_Gibbs answered as many as he could in his usual brief style. "I want you, too, Tony." _

_Tony's grin was short-lived and he looked nervously at his badge and gun, still lying where he had tossed them upon entering the house after the trip to the hospital. "And Rule No. 12?" _

_Gibbs didn't need to think about it. It was just the kind of man he was: Once he decided he was going to go for something, he didn't stop until he got it. "Isn't that never date a wom—" he paused, shook his head, "never date anyone who eats more than you?" _

_Tony smiled, but he still studied Gibbs' face intently. "You know we can't _both_ obey that rule, right?"_

"_Are you trying to be difficult?" Gibbs asked with an exasperated sigh. And a smile. _

_But Tony's expression was still serious. "I'm a difficult person, Gibbs," he said quietly. _

"_And I'm easy?" Gibbs asked, slightly incredulous. _

_Tony's smile returned, slowly. "I did just proposition you this morning," he said slyly. "And now here we are. You're ready to jump my bones right now." _

_Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Your bones don't need anything but rest right now," he said, his eyes dropping to the multicolored mess of Tony's thigh. _

"_I'm fine," Tony said, getting slowly to his feet. He held out his hands and gave a stiff little bow. "See?" _

"_What I see is someone who recently got wrecked by a car," Gibbs said, sliding his hand under Tony's unscathed left elbow. "Let's get you to bed." _

_The grin was expected—but it still had Gibbs grinning just as brightly, even though he tried to hide it. _

"_I thought you'd never ask." _

"_Hold still a minute," Gibbs said, letting go of Tony and giving him a once-over before lightly smacking the back of his head. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't concussed." _

"_I'm not, you know," Tony said seriously. "I want this." _

_Gibbs nodded and helped him the rest of the way to the bedroom, feeling a little shiver of both excitement and trepidation as Tony sat on the edge of the bed and started to pull off his shirt. _

"_Hey," Gibbs said, a hand on Tony's wrist to stop the motion. He swallowed and looked away. "If we do this…" He shook his head and then met Tony's eyes. "I don't share, Tony. If you're mine, you're only mine. And if you can't do that, you need to tell me now." _

_Tony smiled. "I like the sound of that. Being yours." _

"_Tony," Gibbs warned. "Say it." _

"_I'm yours," Tony said, green eyes sincere—and happy. "Only yours." _

Gibbs awoke with a growl—and images of Tony's body, perfect except for the painful evidence of the accident. The rest of that night played out again in Gibbs' mind as he forced himself up from the couch—ignoring the ache in his side from a damaged spring poking him—and made coffee even though it was 0400. He knew he wouldn't be getting back to sleep.

Certainly not while remembering helping Tony out of his clothes, forcing himself to be gentle when he really wanted to rip them off so he could explore his new lover's body unhindered.

Gibbs downed half a cup of the scalding liquid in one gulp, hoping the burn would drown the rest of his pain. It did nothing but ignite his rage at Tony's betrayal, but a quick glance at his swollen knuckles said he wouldn't be punching anything right then. The bruising there had Gibbs thinking of the discolorations on Tony's body that night, and his anger melted away as he remembered watching Tony ease himself back against the pillows, a scraped hand on his bruised hip and pain written in every line of his face.

_Gibbs noted the grimace and left his shorts on as he turned out the light and slid into bed beside Tony. _

"_Uh, Gibbs? I know you're new at this, but you have to be naked for gay sex, too." _

_Gibbs laughed out loud and was glad for the darkness that masked his blush. "No one's having any sex tonight." _

"_But—"_

"_But nothing, Tony," Gibbs said firmly—but it was not a work-like tone. It was gentle. "You're in pain. And I'd rather _not_ start this by hurting you." _

"_Oh," Tony said, considering that. "Well, pain or no pain, I'll probably end up cuddling. I'm kind of a cuddler, you know." _

"_Why am I not surprised?" Gibbs said, smiling in the darkness and shifting so Tony could nestle against his side. He suddenly stopped wondering if this should feel wrong or awkward or dangerous, and he gave himself over to the knowledge that it just felt _right. _He let his injured partner settle in before draping a careful arm over him. "Okay?" Gibbs asked, still worried about hurting him. _

"_Amazing," Tony said, sounding worried about nothing at all. _

Gibbs dropped his empty coffee cup into the sink with a clatter, not worried at all about whether it shattered. He knew he had to pull his head out of the past if he was going to make it through the day. For the first time in a long time, he thought about calling in, telling the team to do without him so he wouldn't have to face Tony.

It was an odd, unsettling feeling, especially since he had been spending nearly every moment with the man of late. Tony had gone to a three-day security conference a few weeks ago, and Gibbs remembered practically counting the hours until he returned, wondering if he had gone crazy—or was simply in love again. It was the latter, he realized, and for the first real time since Shannon. So now, it was strange to be thinking the opposite, dreading the moment when he laid eyes on Tony again.


	5. Chapter 5

Gibbs drove to the Navy Yard, for once not fighting the snarled D.C. traffic and using the time to wonder what he was going to say—and if he should even try to say it at work. He wondered if Tony would avoid him again, or if he would break down and admit his guilt and beg forgiveness. The worst part of Gibbs' mental tail-chasing was that he wasn't sure what he would do if Tony came clean. A part of him—the strict, no nonsense, unbending, _hurting_ part—wanted to kick Tony to the curb. But another part—the side that knew he had made his own mistakes—wanted desperately for Tony to ask for the forgiveness that part would so willingly grant. The two sides warred in his head until he felt nothing but anger toward Tony for creating this mess.

_Do you even know he cheated? What if there's another explanation? What happened to "Never assume," Gibbs?_

Gibbs was shocked to find that voice came to him in Shannon's soft tones.

_If only you could see me now, Shan. Torn in half over my wayward male lover. I miss you and Kelly so much. I want you back. I want to go back to when everything made sense, when there weren't so many questions. I would never have worried about you cheating. I never had to beg you to let me in, to just tell me what your partner did to you in that alley. His betrayal is obviously a key to why you are the way you are now, and I just want to know what happened, so I can understand you. How could you do this to me? I love you. _

Gibbs realized his thoughts had wandered away from Shannon and squarely back to Tony. He told himself to stop thinking entirely as he walked into the building and moved through security on autopilot.

_Great advice for an investigator_, he thought as the elevator carried him upward, ever closer to the man who had dominated his thoughts all night, all morning. Gibbs went straight to his desk, cursing his weakness as he steadfastly ignored his senior agent.

Until a shadow fell across his desk.

Gibbs glanced around and saw that only he and Tony were in the bullpen at this early hour, and then he forced himself to look up, surprised to see Tony standing before him in jeans and a casual pullover instead of his usual designer suit of armor.

_You always wear suits when you're hiding, when you're feeling vulnerable,_ Gibbs wanted to scream. _Does it really not bother you that you cheated on me last night? That you were fucking someone else while I was standing in the hall, soup in hand and worried about you? _

"DiNozzo," he said, looking back at the file on his desk.

"Uh," Tony said, obviously caught off guard by the icy greeting. "You okay?"

Gibbs glanced up, noting Tony looked a little pale, and he stuffed down self-righteous thoughts of _Good—you wanna act like a shit, then you deserve to look like it. _

"Fine," Gibbs bit out. When the shadow stayed painted on his desk, he looked up again. "You need something, DiNozzo?"

Tony blinked, green eyes filled with genuine confusion as he flicked glances around the empty room. "Was just happy to see you," he said softly, sounding upset at the harsh treatment. "I had a bad night and—"

"_You_ had a bad night?" Gibbs snapped, imagining his lover passed out in a stranger's arms. He saw the confusion in Tony's eyes and dismissed it as his agent's impeccable undercover skills. That Tony could stand there and lie to his face was suddenly too much for Gibbs after a sleepless night, and he jumped to his feet, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Go," he ordered, and when he raised a hand to point at the elevator, he saw the raw fear in Tony's eyes as he took a big step back, out of Gibbs' reach.

Gibbs felt a flicker of unease in his gut, and he wondered how Tony could think he would ever hurt him.

Had he been able to see the rage in his own eyes, had he known exactly what had happened in Peoria, he would have had that answer.

"Go see Abby, or Ducky. Or go home. Just get the hell out of my sight."


	6. Chapter 6

It was no surprise that Tony started driving home. He knew he wouldn't be able to stand around and chat idly with the doctor or scientist when it felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest.

They would ask questions.

He had no answers.

All he had was one big question of his own: What the hell had he done to deserve Gibbs' wrath? If it had been a work thing, he would have simply brushed it off, gone to chat with Abby for a while and waited Gibbs out. They both got occasionally frustrated by work and they would usually keep to themselves until the storm blew over. Tony knew their current case was a tangled mess, but Gibbs had thanked him when they got home for making him let the team get some rest. They had all needed it, and this was no new "argument" between the two of them.

But if it wasn't work, then that left only their months-old relationship. Tony had, quite honestly, never been happier. Until this morning. He knew he should have told Gibbs why he needed to get home last night—hell, he should have asked Gibbs to take him so he wouldn't have ended up on the floor, writhing in agony as his head threatened to split open.

But Tony was, if nothing else, fiercely independent. And fiercely protective of his self-proclaimed weaknesses.

Everything had been going great with Gibbs—better than he had ever imagined, even in those wild dreams of his. He should have known it was too good to be true and would all come crashing down on him.

He couldn't help thinking it would all be easier if he just understood what had set Gibbs off. He knew he had left in a rush, with no explanation and with a brush-off when Gibbs offered to come over.

_Just what the hell did he think I was doing?_

The rage in Gibbs' eyes suddenly made perfect sense, and Tony about crashed his car as he realized the answer to that question.

_I was lying on the floor, moaning in pain—not fucking some stranger. _

The investigator in him about slapped the wounded lover upside the head, and Tony could suddenly see the night from Gibbs' perspective. He winced and tried to focus on the traffic, but all he could see was Gibbs standing outside his door, ready to take care of his sick boyfriend—only to hear what he thought was that man betraying him in the worst possible way.

Tony wanted to be indignant—and maybe even angry, too. But images of Gibbs' tired eyes and swollen knuckles that morning had him feeling mostly ill. He wasn't worried about himself; he figured he probably deserved to get hit for putting his lover through that kind of hell.

Tony pulled his cell, wishing he didn't have to be so careful about the message he left.

"Gibbs, it's me. I can explain everything. Just please call me back."

He clicked the phone shut, sighing deeply and fighting the urge to drive back to the yard so he could beg Gibbs' forgiveness—and just maybe ask why he had been so quick to think Tony was a liar and a cheater. But he knew he should just go home because Gibbs had probably already told the team he was sick or something, and they had to be careful about avoiding suspicion. They weren't necessarily hiding their relationship—but they sure as shit weren't advertising it, either.

He had hoped, perhaps a bit naïvely, that he and Gibbs could reach a point in their relationship where they felt comfortable making a statement to the team, before anyone happened to find out. The naiveté really wasn't Tony's fault: He had never made it past fellow officers finding out his secret and trying to beat the shit out of him for daring to walk among their ranks.

Those attacks still weighed heavily on him, from the minor punch in the face and get the hell out from Philly to the weeklong hospitalization after his bout with his former partner Jason in Peoria, and Tony knew those betrayals had shaped his every relationship afterward. He knew Gibbs understood that, but what Tony didn't understand was why he couldn't just tell Gibbs what had happened. Maybe there were just too many reasons to keep that night locked up safe in his darkest nightmares.

_They were eating dinner together, steak fajitas that Gibbs had deemed a waste of a good cut of meat—until he tried them. _

" '_S good," he grumbled, getting an affectionate eye-roll from Tony, who was doing more rearranging on his plate than eating from it. _

"_Thanks." _

_Gibbs chewed slowly and watched him carefully stack peppers on top of onions on top of steak like an edible Jenga game. _

"_Heard some interesting news today," Gibbs said, his steady blue gaze on Tony's frowning face. _

_A quick jab of his fork knocked the pile back onto the tortilla. "Yeah?" Tony said, not looking up. _

"_Jason Redman transferred to Fairfax PD last week." _

"_I know," Tony said quietly, green eyes listless as he played with his food. _

"_When did you hear?"_

"_This morning. One of the few people from Peoria who actually liked me gave me a call." Tony never looked up from the plate. "To warn me." _

"_Tony—" Gibbs started, more concerned by the lack of fear than anything. _

"_He's not stupid enough to mess with an armed federal fucking agent, Gibbs. I'm not worried." _

"_Hey," Gibbs said, waiting until Tony actually looked at him. _

"_What?" Tony asked, sighing harshly. _

_Gibbs glanced at the lockbox holding their weapons. "_Two _armed federal fucking agents." _

_That got a small smile out of Tony, but it faded quickly. "So?" he said after a moment, stabbing at a perfectly seasoned piece of steak and chewing as if it were dirt. _

"_So?" Gibbs asked. _

_Tony dropped the fork and took his rearranged plate to the sink. He set it aside and braced both hands against the counter, his back to Gibbs. "Isn't this where you ask me what happened that night?" _

"_You think I'd use news that obviously has you upset just to get answers?"_

_Tony turned and gave him a look that said he had done that plenty of times to unsuspecting suspects and the occasional uncooperative witness. _

_Gibbs just shook his head. "I won't ever interrogate you, Tony." He got up and moved to Tony's side, opening his arms and letting Tony melt against his body. "Yes, I want to know. Both because it has obviously affected who you are and because I think you need to get it out. I doubt you've ever told anyone what he did to you that night." _

"_Officially," Tony murmured against Gibbs' slightly scruffy neck, "I got mugged." _

_Gibbs smiled a little, but he pulled Tony closer, protectively, stroking a hand down his back and drawing a small shiver from under the thin white dress shirt. "Unofficially, I'd still like to kill him," Gibbs said, blowing out a breath and pulling back to meet Tony's sad green eyes. "But if you tell me to leave it, I'll leave it." _

"_Leave it, Gibbs," Tony said immediately. "Please. I just want him to stay out of my life. Our life." _

_Gibbs nodded. "We have any dealings with Fairfax PD, we'll send McGee and Ziva. Deal?" _

_Tony smiled softly, leaning back into the embrace and feeling safer than he had ever felt, in so many ways. "Deal."_

Tony smiled as he walked down the hall to his apartment, only to stop abruptly as he realized that feeling of safety was probably gone forever. He knew he could—and would—forgive Gibbs for his mistake, for his mistake in judgment, even. But Tony also knew he had no way to prove to Gibbs that he hadn't cheated.

Sudden memories arose of being hauled by his ear to the headmaster's office because no one believed he hadn't started those fights and he had just been defending himself.

He knew he could tell Gibbs the truth about his migraines.

If the man ever spoke to him again.

Tony tried to shake off the thoughts as he entered the apartment, struggling to remember the last time he had been home mid-morning, mid-week. He looked around the room—once a private sanctuary for him, his only refuge from a stressful job and a lonely life—and he realized it had been a while since he had felt at home here.

Gibbs' house was home to him now, and Tony appreciated better than most the luxury of a real home. It was not because of the luxuries of his parent's house on Long Island; it was because of everything that big house had lacked: warmth, comfort, a sense of safety and belonging.

_Gibbs' house _had been _home, _Tony corrected, sinking down onto his soft leather couch and curling up miserably. He kicked off his boots and pulled the soft blanket from the back of the couch over him, shucking his watch and wallet, and hoping to just sleep. He wasn't tired. But he was tired of thinking.

His fierce battle with the migraine last night had drained him more than he thought, though, and Tony soon drifted off into a fitful sleep.

"_Uncle T!"_

"_Hey, little guy!" _

_Tony picked up his partner's young son, twirling him around the backyard under a bright Midwest sun. _

"_Careful, man," Jay said, clamping a hand on Tony's shoulder. "He just ate and he might yak all over you." _

_Tony winced and set the small boy on his knee as he settled into a comfortable patio chair. Earnest blue eyes stared widely up at him. _

"_What's a yak?" the boy asked. _

_Tony grinned, accepting a beer from Lilly, Jay's rather pregnant wife. "Thanks, Lills," he said, tilting his cheek up to accept the kiss she planted there. _

"_Anytime, Tony," she said. "Now answer the boy. This should be good," she added, dropping with surprising grace despite her swollen belly into a nearby chair. _

"_Well, Joey," Tony said, turning back to the boy, "a yak is a beast of burden." _

_The four-year-old smiled. And then he frowned. "What's a beast?"_

_Tony shot Lilly a helpless look, which she returned with a devilish grin, before turning back to the kid in his lap. "A beast is an animal." _

"_Oh," Joey said, thoughtfully. He reached out and fiddled with the zipper on Tony's pullover. "Uncle T?" _

"_Yeah, Buddy?" _

"_What's a burden?"_

_Lilly laughed so hard she snorted, and Jay moved from his place at the grill to lift the boy off Tony's lap. "How 'bout you help me carry the plates out here?" _

_Tony gave him a grateful look as father and son disappeared into the house. "Thanks, Jay," he called after them. "You saved my life, man!" He turned back to find Lilly watching him carefully. "Hmmm?"_

"_More like you saved his, right?" she asked, drawing a surprised look from her husband's partner, and her friend. "I know you two wouldn't tell me what happened because you didn't want me freaking out—"_

"_And giving birth in the middle of the station." _

_She rolled her eyes and threw a wadded-up napkin at him. Her expression turned serious, though. "—but cops' wives talk, Tony. And I know the bullet that went through your arm would have done a lot more damage to him if you hadn't reacted so quickly." She reached up with a slightly shaking hand and brushed blonde hair out of her eyes. "And so selflessly." _

_Tony blinked in surprise at the blunt words before finding his voice. "That bullet didn't go through anyone, Lills. It was just a graze." He tapped the light bandage through his sleeve. "I wouldn't be throwing Joey around if it were that bad." _

"_And Jay wouldn't be throwing him around ever again if it weren't for you. Will you stop being so macho and just let me say thank you for giving this baby the chance to meet his daddy?" She wiped tears out of hazel eyes and winced. "Fucking hormones."_

_Tony grinned even though he was feeling rather uncomfortable. "You're welcome," he said, watching her rub her belly. "You two come up with a name for him yet?" _

"_We were thinking maybe 'Anthony'," she said. _

_Tony felt suddenly numb, his mouth moving but no words coming out. "Lilly," he finally managed. He felt a hand land on his shoulder and he looked up into Jay's smiling face. _

"_You saved my life, Tony," he said softly. "Least we can do is name a kid after you." _

_Tony was at a total loss for words because he had never felt so warm, so happy and sure of his place in life—and in the lives of a family. _

_Jay knew his partner well enough to see his distress so he moved back. "I mean, hell, we're gonna have five or six more so it's really no big deal." He threw a wink at his wife, who knew Tony just as well and gave a bright smile. _

"_Yeah, sure," she retorted. "But you're carrying the next two." _

"_Would if I could, Babe," Jay said, dropping a kiss onto her forehead before looking back to the house for Joey. "How awesome is it that he can go potty by himself? I'm so glad we're done with diapers." _

_Tony and Lilly exchanged an amused look. _

"_Uh, Jay?" Tony said. _

_Lilly pointed to her stomach. _

"_Well, crap." _

Tony awoke several hours later, still smiling.

And then his new reality came crashing back down onto him with the weight of the world. Tony rubbed hands over his face and sighed as he sat up, wondering why his mind had chosen that particular happy memory to torment him with.

_And how the hell could you think I'd throw away the best thing that ever happened to me, Gibbs? _he also wondered.

The two trains of thought collided, leaving Tony feeling like he had been caught in the wreckage.

_He doesn't trust you now because you could never trust _him_ with what happened that night. _Yes, what his former partner had done to him was brutal and deeply personal, but Tony knew trust had to be a two-way street. He suddenly saw it from Gibbs' perspective and realized Gibbs thought Tony was keeping secrets because he _was _keeping secrets. No, that secret wasn't another lover, but if Tony was going to demand complete trust from Gibbs, then he should have been willing to give it in return.

Tony popped up from the couch, knowing he needed to tell Gibbs everything: about the migraines, about that night in Peoria, about his feelings—Gibbs had jumped the hurdle of saying "I love you" but Tony had not. He just hoped like hell that Gibbs would hear him out. And forgive him.

Tony picked up his phone, slightly surprised when Gibbs picked up on the first ring. He felt a little flutter in his belly at Gibbs' voice and told himself to stop acting like a lovesick, nervous teenager.

The half-growled "Gibbs" greeting didn't help the nervousness, but Tony figured he was probably in the squad room.

_Gotta keep up appearances, _he thought, wishing he had spent more time thinking about exactly what he was going to say.

"What do you want, DiNozzo?"

"You," Tony said without thinking, repeating the answer from the night he realized his feelings for Gibbs were mutual.

Tony heard movement and he figured Gibbs was walking away for some privacy. He tried not to let his heart soar too much with that small victory.

"I love you, Gibbs," he said, that heart crammed up somewhere in his throat as he said the words he had spoken before but never really meant—never really understood until Gibbs. "I just need you to love me back. I need you to trust me—"

"Trust you?" came Gibbs' quiet explosion.

"I know what you think you heard," Tony tried to explain.

"What I 'think' I heard?" Gibbs said, practically spitting the words. "Not only are you sneaking around fucking people behind my back, but now you're going to lie about it? Fuck, Tony, I thought you were a better person than that."

"Will you please just listen to me? I left because—"

"I think I heard enough last night," Gibbs said tightly. "I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses, or more of your fucking lies, or why I should forgive your worthless ass. I don't care. Hell, I don't care if I never hear your voice again."

Tony was reeling, feeling the force of the verbal hits all the way to the pit of his belly, but he realized the line was still open. "What am I supposed to do if you won't just let me explain?" he asked softly.

Tony waited through the silence for the snap of a phone flipping shut.

But Gibbs didn't hang up just yet. He had more body blows to inflict. "You can go to hell for all I care. I told you I wouldn't share. We're done."

The snap in his ear was more like a slap in the face, and for a moment, all Tony could do was stand there and breathe. He felt like his world was ending. He laughed an unsteady little chuckle as he realized the dream of Peoria was all the more fitting, considering he had felt the same way back then, lying in a hospital bed with serious injuries inflicted by someone he had thought he could trust, with his life, if necessary.

Tony put his phone down and then looked around the room, wondering what he was supposed to do now. His life had been shattered once again and he wasn't sure if he had the energy to start gluing those pieces back together. Hell, he wasn't sure if he would even find them all this time. He thought about trying to sleep but knew it would never happen. He glanced at the part of his DVD collection that hadn't yet made it over to Gibbs'—and now never would—but he knew he was too jittery to sit through a movie. He thought briefly about going and getting too drunk to stand, but it was awfully early for that.

So Tony just stared at the floor, feeling so dead inside he wondered if he should check his pulse, if it was possible for hateful words to still a beating heart.

_He hates me,_ Tony thought despondently. _He probably wishes I _was _dead and rotting in hell. _

He heard footsteps outside his door and wondered idly if it was Gibbs coming to finish him off. As if his words hadn't been enough. Tony pried his gaze up from the floor, his eyes skimming over his phone and gun on the coffee table, and he suddenly knew what he had to do. Fear grabbed his stomach in a death-grip, but he ignored it, knowing it was the only thing he _could_ do.

He also ignored both items as he grabbed his keys and went to the door.

He wouldn't need either where he was going.


	7. Chapter 7

Gibbs set the phone on a shelf in the maintenance room so he wouldn't crush it in his grip. He leaned his head against the wire shelving and tried to focus on evening out his breathing, wondering how the hell the end of a months-long relationship could _hurt_ like this. He knew the calculation was wrong, though, because Tony had been his friend long before he had been his lover, and he also knew it was the betrayal of Tony's cheating that had him wanting to check for a knife in the back as the cause of his pain.

His thoughts turned to the first time he had told Tony he loved him. Tony hadn't said it back, but Gibbs hadn't minded because he doubted Tony even knew the meaning of love with his lonely childhood and strings of meaningless relationships and one-night stands. Gibbs had been willing to be patient—with something other than his handmade boats—and try to teach Tony the meaning of genuine love, and he had wanted it to mean something when Tony finally felt comfortable saying it.

Gibbs thought back to Tony's declaration on the phone and he realized he hadn't been very patient then, hadn't even let Tony try to explain. Gibbs glanced at the phone and wondered if he should call back and give him that chance.

_But what is there to explain? You fucked someone else because… why? You were bored? _

With a hard shake of his head, Gibbs grabbed the phone and started for the door, only to have it swing inward. Gibbs eyed his uninvited guest and hoped like hell he hadn't heard anything he had said to Tony.

"Jethro," Ducky warned when Gibbs tried to brush past him. The doctor crossed his arms and blocked the small room's only exit, waiting until Gibbs retreated a few steps to shut the door.

"What did you hear?" Gibbs demanded immediately.

"Only a confirmation of what I had already suspected," Ducky answered mildly. "You have been … dating … Anthony." The word was spoken not with distaste, but with hesitation—as if he wasn't sure if it was the right word.

"Been fucking him, too," Gibbs said bluntly. "Happy?" He started to move toward the door again, but Ducky stayed planted in his way, frowning tightly.

"There is no need to be crass, Jethro," the doctor said sternly before his expression softened. "It is fairly obvious to me that you are in love with the boy."

"He's not a boy," Gibbs growled, turning away, embarrassed. "But he's not a girl, either. That why you won't get out of my way and let me get back to work?"

"I'm disappointed," Ducky said, shaking his head and waiting until Gibbs met his eyes. "I thought you knew me better than to think me a bigot."

Gibbs' gaze hit the floor at that and he fought not to think about how he had said almost the exact same thing to Tony. Just the thought of his lover—his _former_ lover—had Gibbs feeling physically ill.

"What has he done, my friend?" Ducky asked sympathetically. He continued when he got no reply, "You are quite clearly hurting over something, and I can only surmise from what I heard of your conversation. And I would hate to be wrong about something of that magnitude."

Gibbs felt a little flicker in his gut at those words, but he ignored it, debating what to tell his longtime friend. He knew Ducky posed no threat to his career, and they had certainly been through a lot together. Gibbs decided to give in and just spill his guts—it wasn't like the ME wasn't used them.

"He cheated on me," Gibbs said frankly.

Ducky waited.

"Nothing more to say," Gibbs finally said.

Ducky seemed to be weighing his words. "How long have you been seeing each other?"

Gibbs was annoyed at the continued interrogation, but he knew the alternative was going back to the squad room to sit across from Tony's empty desk all afternoon and help McGee and Ziva go over the evidence of their twisted case yet again, hoping to find _something_. "Few months."

The doctor did some mental math and nodded. "Since Anthony was nearly killed by that car?"

The agent wasn't sure if Ducky's perception was a good or bad thing. "Watched it happen, Duck," Gibbs admitted softly. "I saw him lying there and I thought… I thought I'd lost him." Gibbs rubbed his hands over his face, remembering how his heart had practically stopped when he had watched Tony's body bounce off that car. "Maybe it wasn't even love. Maybe I was just worried about losing him."

"Do you really believe that?" Ducky shook his head. "I know you are not much of a worrier, Jethro, and I doubt you have months-long sexual relationships with everyone you are concerned over, especially men. Do not discount what you had just because it is over."

"Never been with a man before him," Gibbs said, unsure why that mattered.

Ducky wasn't sure what to do with that, either, and he suddenly asked, "How did you find out? About Anthony's transgression?"

"Transgression?" Gibbs spat, angry all over again at the memory of hearing Tony's moans. "He avoided me all day yesterday, practically ran out of my house with a lame excuse about being sick, and when I went to check on him, I heard him… with someone else."

The doctor was hearing alarm bells, thanks to his knowledge of Tony's medical history, and he asked, "You heard him? What exactly did you hear?"

Gibbs was slightly surprised by the question and momentarily forgot his embarrassment. "He was moaning—in a way I have _never_ made him sound."

Ducky sighed heavily. "Oh my, Jethro."

"No shit," Gibbs said, misunderstanding the sentiment.

"You never saw anything? Never saw another person?"

Gibbs shook his head, shrugging as if it didn't matter.

"And what did Anthony say about it when you confronted him?"

Blue eyes snapped up to Ducky's. "I never… Never really did."

* * *

Tony drove, his knuckles white on the wheel of his beloved car as he steadfastly ignored the passenger's seat. Memories of a long weekend spent with Gibbs at a cabin in Shenandoah assaulted his mind as he remembered how they had "fought" over whose car to take for the hours-long drive from the city. Tony had finally won, and they had packed this car full of camping supplies while Tony had fake-complained the entire time about the woods, bugs, poison ivy and the general lack of DVD players out in the wilderness.

In truth, that trip—filled with days spent fishing and hiking and nights spent exploring in a very different manner—had been one of the best weekends of Tony's life.

He ruthlessly shoved away memories of being tangled with Gibbs' strong body, their skin sweat-streaked from the heat of the flickering flames as they made love on a sleeping bag on the worn floorboards of the cabin. It hadn't really been that cold outside, and Tony had woken up hot and sticky and achy from sleeping on the hard floor. But he had also never been more happy than when he had come awake, plastered to Gibbs' side and wrapped in the safety and comfort of his embrace.

But none of that mattered anymore. Nothing did. Because Gibbs still thought he was a cheater, still hated him for sins he had not committed.

So Tony drove, his stomach a knot of fear and pain as he considered his options. But really, he was out of options, forced into his decision by circumstances he could not control.

But he had a plan.

Now all he had to do was find the courage to follow through.


	8. Chapter 8

"So I assume you never gave him a chance to explain himself?" Ducky asked.

Gibbs made a sharp sound of disgust, but his gaze was suddenly piercing, studying. "What do you know about him that I don't?"

Ducky wasn't surprised by the perception and he answered, "Anthony suffers from migraines, Gibbs. The bad ones bring him to his knees—I have even seen him writhing in agony on the floor if he's without his medication. It is a very serious, very painful medical condition completely beyond his control."

Gibbs suddenly remembered the thump he had heard—and Tony telling him he needed something from home. Tony's avoiding him also made perfect sense: He had known Gibbs would pick up on his pain. Gibbs also remembered Tony's stubborn attempts to limp around and take care of himself after the car accident, and the quick dismissal of Gibbs' offer made sense, too.

Gibbs felt a sudden flash of anger—because it was easier than acknowledging the crushing guilt that he had been standing two feet away while his lover suffered through intense pain, and that he had walked away because of a hastily made misjudgment.

"Why the hell didn't he just _tell _me?" Gibbs asked, frustration covering most of his misplaced anger. If he was honest with himself, he knew that anger should be directly solely at himself. He didn't wait for Ducky's answer. "Because he never tells me anything."

"Perhaps some things are simply too painful to share," Ducky said, giving Gibbs a meaningful look that had him thinking about how long he had kept Shannon's and Kelly's deaths from his team, his friends.

"Not the same," Gibbs grumbled.

"What isn't?" Ducky asked, genuinely confused.

Gibbs looked up from the floor suddenly, giving Ducky a scrutinizing look. "What do you know about his hospitalization in Peoria?"

"Only the extent and treatment of his injuries," Ducky said carefully, studying Gibbs right back, "which I am not at liberty to discuss without his permission. The hows, and whys, and whos… and his feelings surrounding his attack are not my story to tell. I believe only Anthony can answer the questions burning so fiercely in your eyes right now."

"He won't," Gibbs said, dropping his gaze back to the floor. "I've asked him over and over to tell me what happened but all I know is that his partner found out about his … orientation … and beat him, with the help of some friends."

Ducky frowned hard at that. "His partner? My. Well, that explains a lot about our young friend, doesn't it? But Jethro, it sounds to me like you know the whole story." Ducky saw the pointed look and went on, "Do you really need to force him to relive every blow? Every punch, kick and broken bone inflicted by someone he thought he could trust?"

"I…" Gibbs trailed off, at a loss for words. "Never thought about it like that."

They were silent a moment, Gibbs staring down at his cell with quiet determination.

Ducky turned to the door, but he stopped, watching Gibbs raise the phone to his ear. "Try not to be too hard on yourself, my friend. Men, women, friends, lovers… Relationships are never easy."

Gibbs gave him a small smile, wondering how the doctor had known he was using himself as a mental punching bag. "Thanks, Duck."

Ducky nodded and opened the door, only to be stopped again, this time by Gibbs' soft sigh.

"He's not picking up," Gibbs said, his eyes sad. "Don't really blame him. I wouldn't want to speak to me either after the way I treated him." He winced, thinking about the way he had spoken to the man who had never given him any reason to distrust him.

"Here," Ducky said, fishing his cell out of a pocket of his lab coat.

"Sneaky," Gibbs said, accepting the phone but hesitating. "He might be pissed at you when he hears who's calling."

Ducky waved him off. "I'm certain he will forgive the ruse once he hears what you have to say. Return the phone whenever you are finished with it."

Gibbs nodded, listening to the ringing and knowing Tony wouldn't ignore a work call—from Ducky anyway. The phone continued to go unanswered and Gibbs felt a growing unease with each successive ring. His gut was churning by the time Tony's familiar voice was replayed by his voicemail, a message that was unfamiliar to Gibbs. Because Tony always picked up. Always.

Unless something was terribly wrong.

* * *

Tony drove, his heart hammering ever harder in his chest as he neared his destination. He thought of all the times he had driven here, on normal days, of his own free will because he just wanted to see Gibbs. As much as Tony loved going places and seeing people and exploring new things, he had also come to love the quiet nights they spent in the basement, Tony either talking or reading while Gibbs worked on his boat. The basement had come to mean solace, a place to re-gather strength and equilibrium, to examine past mistakes and deal with them, once and for all.

It was really no surprise Tony chose it as the setting for the final part of his plan.

He just hoped, when all was said and done, that Gibbs would be able to forgive him.

* * *

Gibbs threw open the door and jogged after the doctor, pressing the phone into his hand and drawing an equally worried look from Ducky.

"He didn't answer?" Ducky asked, shaking his head. "He always picks up for me. He even answered when he was on vacation a few years back—a trip to Panama City, I believe—and I was working on that rather odd case with—"

Gibbs cut him off with a glare, but his eyes were much more worried than angry.

"He is likely just angry," Ducky soothed, putting a gentle hand on Gibbs' arm. "I imagine he is quite upset and just doesn't feel like talking with anyone right now. Perhaps you should go by his apartment and speak with him face to face."

Gibbs glanced at his watch and then down the corridor toward the elevator.

"Timothy and Ziva are both extremely competent agents—they can work on their own for a bit. As distracted as you are, I doubt you would notice a signed confession amongst the evidence reports. Go." Ducky noticed the lingering hesitation and realized it wasn't just the case Gibbs was worried about. "What is it, Jethro?"

"I…" Gibbs pulled in a deep breath. "I said some things to him… Things I never should have said and he didn't deserve to hear."

Ducky suddenly understood the trepidation. "Tony would never…"

"No," Gibbs agreed. But then he rubbed his hands over his face. "Not purposely. I don't think. I don't know. I need to get over there."

Ducky nodded and gave him a pat on the shoulder, silently wishing him good luck.

Gibbs took the stairs to the squad room, realizing he couldn't leave his team hanging. His eyes went straight to Tony's empty desk and his gut clenched in raw fear. He had no idea why the feeling was so strong, but he suddenly knew if he didn't get to Tony soon, he would never see him again.

At least not alive.

* * *

"The basement has open rafters," Tony said out loud, not blinking, his eyes glued to the familiar road where Gibbs' house was located. "He loves that basement. It's his sanctuary, really. He'll be absolutely devastated when he walks down those stairs and sees me." Tony paused, swallowing hard and wishing he could just pick up the phone and tell his lover he was sorry—for so many things. There were so many things he wanted to tell him.

But he couldn't.

"There's already rope down there," Tony said, ignoring the fear and pain for a moment as he got out of the car and walked to the house, remembering Gibbs shoving him against the boat one night after a particularly bad case. The sex had been rough and wild—hands and mouths and bodies colliding until pleasure bordered on pain. But neither had cared about the scrapes or slivers or the faint bite mark in Tony's shoulder that had Gibbs blushing and apologizing like mad over as they lay amid the sawdust, both completely spent. They both knew they hadn't been trying to hurt each other—they had been making themselves remember how to _feel_, how to shed the numbness brought over them like shrouds at the senseless violence of that case.

Tony stood in the middle of that basement, his hand resting on the boat, wishing it were Gibbs' surprisingly soft skin under his touch. Tony hadn't chosen this place to hurt Gibbs—though he knew that was an almost inevitable outcome—he had chosen it because it was the only place in the world where he felt he might find the strength to do this.

He glanced around the room, ignoring the happy memories and concentrating on the stark reality. Tony drew a shaky breath and let it out slowly, feeling a sense of calm he wouldn't have thought possible at this moment.

"Just need to toss that rope over a rafter, and I'll be out of your life forever."


	9. Chapter 9

The signals coming from Gibbs' gut were actually, physically painful, and he forced himself not to shout as he addressed his junior agents.

"Going home," he said shortly, drawing shocked looks from both McGee and Ziva. "Need to think."

He headed for the elevator, but stopped and turned back. "Call me if you find anything."

"Uh, Boss?" McGee's voice stopped him yet again—even though every fiber of his being was screaming at him to find Tony, to get to him before something terrible happened. "Is everything okay?"

Had Gibbs not been so worried about his lover, he might have given the Probie credit for speaking up.

"Fine," Gibbs said shortly, needing to get moving again. But the question rooted his feet to the floor and he eyed McGee carefully. "Why?"

McGee blinked, looking as if he wished he had kept his mouth shut. "You seem … different … today." He hurried on at the impatient look on his boss's face. "And it was nice of you to let Tony take the day off to spend with his old partner, but it's not exactly—"

"What?" Gibbs roared, his stomach dropping through the floor as McGee's words registered. "I did what?"

More blinking was followed by a sheepish look from McGee. "Tony's partner from Peoria—Jason, I think—called and asked for his address. Said he was in town for a few days and wanted to see him but didn't know where he lived," McGee said in a rush. "I thought that's why you let Tony off today… so they could meet up."

"The last time they 'met up', that bastard put Tony in a hospital for a week," Gibbs growled, fighting panic and hoping like hell that Tony had some other reason that he wasn't answering his phone.

* * *

Tony stood on a sawhorse, balanced on the toes of his boots as he slid the rope around his neck.

His fear was like a living thing trying to claw its way out of his belly, but he looked around the comfortable, familiar room and drew strength for what he was about to do. He knew it was the only way—but that didn't make it any less terrifying, standing there with a rickety sawhorse the only thing standing between him and the rope slowly choking the life out of him.

The rope was old, frayed slightly but still strong enough to get the job done. Tony closed his eyes, feeling the stiff bristles poking at the sensitive skin at his throat.

It was time. There was no getting out of this, no going back and changing the past.

Tony took a deep, shuddering breath and looked down the barrel of the gun pointed at his head from across the room.

"I've done everything you asked, _Jay_," Tony said, emphasizing the nickname of his former partner. He could feel the rope tickling at his neck as he spoke, but he ignored it and continued, "Now I need you to do something for me."

* * *

"When did Redman call?" Gibbs barked.

McGee shook his head, thinking—likely simultaneously—about the circumstances of Tony's hospitalization and the time of the call. "When I first got in this morning. Probably 0730."

"Why would this man choose to come after Tony now?" Ziva asked, her concern for her partner evident in her worried dark eyes. "Peoria was a long time ago, no?"

Gibbs glanced at his watch—it was nearly 1500—and tried not to think about everything Redman could have done to Tony in eight long hours. "I don't know," he answered, frustrated and distracted by images of Tony's bloody, beaten face. "Bastard's been working for Fairfax PD for weeks now. There must be some reason he waited."

That reason hit Gibbs like a freight train and his eyes slipped closed, his world tilting on its already whirling axis. _Tony's been staying with me. Redman couldn't find him—until Tony went home this morning. _Gibbs swallowed the bile that washed up the back of his throat at his next thought. _The only reason Tony was home today was because _I _ordered him to get the hell out of my sight. If Tony dies—if Redman lays a single hand on him—it'll be entirely my fault. _

Gibbs shook his head, hard, knowing he needed to get it together—for his sake and for Tony's.

"Jason Redman of Fairfax, Virginia—or the surrounding area. I don't know where this dirtbag lives," he barked at McGee, whose fingers went flying at the command.

"Tracing his cell," McGee said as Ziva picked up the phone on her desk.

"I will call Fairfax PD and see if Redman is on duty today," she said calmly.

Gibbs just stood there, feeling helpless as Ziva spoke quietly into the phone and McGee tapped away.

"Redman called in sick this morning," Ziva reported, cracks beginning to show in her calm exterior. "An officer went by his place—an apartment in Manassas," she added, getting a nod from McGee, who narrowed his search, "ostensibly to pick up a file for court, but Redman was not there."

"Boss thought he was lying," Gibbs said, knowing for certain that he was. "Sent someone to check up on him."

Ziva nodded. "That is the impression I got."

"I got a location on Redman's phone," McGee said, his voice tight with tension as he handed over a sticky note to Gibbs and moved to grab his gun. "And for Tony's."

"No," Gibbs said, swallowing fear as he looked down at the familiar address. "You two stay here."

Gibbs swept out of the squad room without an explanation, leaving McGee with his holstered gun in his hand and a look of shock on his face.

"If Tony's in trouble, why doesn't he want us to go?" McGee asked.

Ziva shared none of his confusion. "Because he does not want to make us lie for him when he kills Redman for hurting Tony."

* * *

"What the fuck makes you think I owe you anything?"

Tony's thoughts returned to his dream and his eyes searched his former partner's face, trying to find even a glimpse of that man as he had been on that bright, sunny day. "There was a time you would have done anything for me, Jay."

Redman sneered. "Think you've got that backward, Twinkletoes. I distinctly remember _you_ trying to suck face with me in that alley."

Tony's cheeks burned as Redman wiped his lips in disgust. "Only because _you_ said you were in love with me."

"Can't believe you fell for that," the cop said, smirking.

"I trusted you," Tony yelled, unable to stop himself. He went immediately still as the sawhorse rocked under him, and his hand tightened on the rope as he steadied himself. "Why did you lie to me?"

"Heard a rumor about what you are," Redman said, shrugging. "I had to know for sure." He cocked his head to the side, considering. "I guess I did owe you that, _partner_. So what was that last request?"

Tony swallowed, the rope brushing against his throat again and making him shiver. He knew this was his only chance. "I want to die alone," he said. "You took my knife. I'm not getting out of this. I told you I was ready to die. That's why I came here. To feel close to him one last time."

Redman rolled his eyes. "God, you really are gay."

"Please, Jay," Tony said, ignoring the insult. But he began to shake, the sawhorse tottering under him. "I could have ratted on you the second I opened my eyes in that hospital. I didn't. Please, Jay."

"You were supposed to die that night, you know," Redman said casually, ignoring the pain in his former partner's eyes. "I would have loved to investigate your murder." Redman's cold eyes were a sharp contrast to his bright smile as he kicked the sawhorse from under the agent's feet. He ignored Tony's sharp cry and spoke over his gagging and choking. "Even if it would have dinged my solve rate a bit."

* * *

_Tony opened the door to his apartment, nodding to a neighbor and catching a whiff of something familiar that he couldn't quite place. Not that he was paying attention, anyway. All he was doing was formulating what he needed to say to Gibbs. He knew the only thing left to do was tell Gibbs everything about his migraines—and about that night in Peoria. He had spent most of his life hiding. _

_He was tired of the secrets. _

_Tony was so focused on his thoughts that he didn't notice that he had company in the parking garage until there was a gun jammed in his back and a snarl in his ear. _

"_Long time, DiNozzo." Redman spoke softly but there was no mistaking his words as a friendly greeting. The gun stayed pressed to Tony's spine as his former partner checked him for a weapon and pocketed his knife. "Get in the car. You try anything, and I'll put a bullet in your head and walk away." _

_Tony bit back a sigh. He figured he should be at least mildly frightened of this man who had broken half the ribs in his left side, but really, all Tony could think was that Gibbs would have been seriously pissed if he could see him standing there beside his car, unarmed and unreachable because both his gun and phone were sitting on his coffee table. Not that Gibbs probably cared one way or the other, considering the man thought him a cheating, lying bastard. _

_DiNozzo thought about trying something, despite the warning, but he saw the hot chick from 3B enter the garage with her adorable little girl in tow, and Tony simply got in the car and leaned over to unlock the passenger side door. Redman slid inside, lifting a hand to wave at the pretty young mother. _

"_You always were a hero, weren't you?" the cop asked, still smiling as he kept the gun in his lap pointed at his unwilling chauffeur. _

"_Fuck you, Jason," Tony said tightly, smiling and returning his neighbor's wave. _

"_Thought we already established I wasn't interested?"_

_Images of that night came flooding back, but Tony blocked them out, reaching for the keys Redman had lifted from his pocket during his search for weapons. He slid the key into the ignition and wondered if he would ever have a chance to explain himself to his lover. The thought of Gibbs was just too painful right then, and he silently apologized and gently shoved the only person he'd ever loved out of his head. _

"_Drive," the cop commanded. _

"_Okay," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "But only because I already planned to." _

_Tony made his way slowly out of the garage, ignoring several bystanders because he had no desire to have their deaths on his conscience. He had no idea why Jason was here or what he wanted, but Tony knew it wasn't going to be pleasant for him. _

_The silence got to him before the fear for his life, and Tony said, "If you wanted to get together and talk about old times, all you had to do was call." _

"_Shut up," Redman snapped. "We don't need to talk about old times. I said everything I needed to in that alley." _

_The anger in the words had Tony suddenly pissed, too. "You know what the worst part about it was?" he asked. "Not the bones you broke or seeing my own blood on your hands. It was lying in that hospital while you sat at my side, telling me how you were going to get the bastard who hurt me." _

"_I never put a gun to your head," Redman said, laughing a little as he waved the gun currently in his hand. "You could have said something."_

_Tony made a sharp sound of disgust. "Right," he said, bitterly. "Except you had a weapon better than any gun. You made sure you had Lilly right there every time you came to sit vigil at my bedside." _

_Redman's eyes flashed angrily at the mention of his wife, but he just said, "You could have told someone else." _

"_You knew I wouldn't," Tony countered, shaking his head. "You might not understand this, but being partners actually means something to me."_

"_So imagine how I felt when I found out what you are, partner." _

"_Right," Tony said, huffing out a pent-up breath. "I forgot that the fact that I fuck other men made me such a terrible partner. I saved your life in that warehouse, Jay. But you're right. I should have stopped to tell you I take it in the ass before stepping in front of that bullet for you. You named your child after me, for fuck's sake. Tell me, _partner_, how's it feel to call your kid 'Anthony' every day?" _

_Tony stilled, his mind catching up with his mouth. He turned wide eyes away from the light traffic to stare at his captor. "Please," he breathed, "tell me you didn't—"_

_Redman just laughed. "The boys are fine. But you are on the right track, wondering why I'm here after all these years." He gave Tony a hateful look. "But don't act like you don't already know." _

_Tony was genuinely confused. "Know what?" _

"_Huh," Redman said, giving Tony a onceover from the passenger seat. "You're good. No wonder they always picked you to do undercover work."_

"_What?" Tony said again, wondering what had happened to knock his former partner so off his game that he hadn't even asked where Tony was going. A sudden thought had his insides knotted again. "Where's Lilly? If you hurt her—"_

_Redman cut him off with another laugh. "You'll what?" He waved the gun again. "Nothing, that's what. But you're right. She is the reason I'm here. She left me. Wanna know why?" _

_Tony figured he wouldn't need three guesses. Or even two. _

"_Yeah," the cop said, his expression twisting with rage. "She found out who put you in that hospital bed. Like it even matters now." He glanced over Tony once more. "You're fine now." _

_Tony didn't bother to tell him he had broken more than bones that night, that his every relationship was now skewed because of his fractured ability to trust. _

_The gun jammed painfully into Tony's side and Redman snarled, "I know it was you. I know you called her and told her everything I did to you. You destroyed my fucking life and now I'm going to enjoy the hell out of taking yours." _

_Fear started its slow climb up Tony's spine, but he just shook his head. "I haven't talked to Lilly since the day I was discharged from the hospital. Why the hell would I call her now and tell her what really happened?"_

"_I don't know. I know you had a fight with your … whatever. What happened, the current fag of the month fucking around on you, Tony? Or more like you were the one porking someone else behind some chick's back, you lying bastard." _

"_What did you hear?" Tony asked carefully, suddenly remembering the footsteps outside his apartment. _

_Redman just eyed him. "I forgot how good you are," he said, giving his head a shake. "Heard you begging for a chance to explain. What were you going to say? You tripped, fell and landed on some guy's dick? You always did like your movie references." _

"_I never cheated on him," Tony said angrily. _

"_So it is a him again? He got a name?" _

"_Not one you'll ever hear." _

"_Come on," Redman cajoled with a smile, as if he weren't holding a gun as an incentive to cooperate. _

_Tony steadfastly ignored the man in the passenger's seat, thinking back to a weekend spent with Gibbs in a cabin. The memories brought more icy fingers of fear as he formulated a plan—a plan that would be devastating to his lover if it didn't go off perfectly. But as he drove toward Gibbs' house—_his home_—Tony felt a little stronger, his memories of those quiet nights in the basement momentarily calming him. He forced down the tiny voice in his head that told him nothing would matter if he failed—Gibbs would think him a cheat _and_ a coward._

"_But you can see his place," Tony said, letting the fear give his voice a little shake. "I was going there anyway. To kill myself." _

_Redman's eyes snapped to Tony's face, calculating. "Right. So we walk in to him waiting for us. He a cop, too?" _

_Tony shook his head slowly. "He's at work. An analyst for the trash department. He makes me lock up my gun because he hates the sight of it." _

_Narrowed eyes raked Tony's face as his former partner studied him. "Fine," Redman said after a moment. "But any sign of him and I'll kill you both." _

_Tony nodded, figuring he was safe. Ha. Well, at least Gibbs was safe—the man would never leave the team two agents down in the middle of messy case. _Especially not for me_, Tony thought. _Not now.

"_How were you going to do it?" the cop asked, sounding suspicious. "You don't have your gun." _

"_The basement has open rafters," Tony said, not blinking, his eyes glued to the familiar road where Gibbs' house was located. "He loves that basement. It's his sanctuary, really. He'll be absolutely devastated when he walks down those stairs and sees me." _

"_And the rope?" _

"_There's already rope down there." _

_Redman just looked at him. "You really were going to do this." _

"_I really _am _going to," Tony said steadily, his pain and fear showing in his eyes as he thought about how wrecked Gibbs would be if he failed. The man had already lost so much. "That gun you're pointing at me doesn't make a damned bit of difference. I was dead the minute he told me he never wanted to see again." Tony swallowed hard, the lies mingling with the truth and momentarily choking him. "He said he wanted me dead," he said, smiling a tiny bit, knowing full well that wasn't what Gibbs had meant. "I never could refuse him anything he really wanted. Just like you used to be with Lills." _

"_Shut up," Redman growled, shoving the gun hard into Tony's ribs. _

"_Guess we're more alike than you ever wanted to admit," Tony said, ignoring the gun as best he could. "It's just not worth living if they hate us." _

_They had arrived in the basement, and Tony ran a hand over the boat, longing for Gibbs so intensely it hurt. But he also drew strength, remembering one particularly wild romp one night after a hard case, and he felt a sudden sense of calm just by being here. _

"_Just need to toss that rope over a rafter, and I'll be out of your life forever." _

_Tony reluctantly broke contact with the smooth wood of the boat. _

"_And his." _


	10. Chapter 10

Redman made his way to the stairs as Tony kicked at the air, his hands instinctively, uselessly on the rope choking him.

"Wasn't exactly what I planned," Redman said, pausing midway up the steps, "but there will be a lot less questions now." He locked eyes with his former partner and gave the dying man a big grin. "You always did have my back, Tony."

If he'd had the breath, Tony would have screamed out all of his rage and betrayal. But instead, he just fought his nearly overwhelming panic and listened to the footsteps above him, forcing himself to let go of the rope and move his hands downward. His vision went spotty, dusted over in black, and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he tried to think of the good times in this basement with Gibbs—rather than the fact that his lungs were burning as if underwater. He traced the familiar creaks of the floorboards as Redman walked through the kitchen and toward the front door.

The second Tony heard that door slam shut, he freed the knife from his belt and reached up to slice the through the rope that was slowly killing him.

Tony landed in a heap on the concrete floor, his left ankle rolling under him and tossing him sideways to slam into the upended sawhorse. Black stars burst like charred fireworks as his head connected with a leg of the sawhorse, and he cried out in pain with what little remained of his voice. He wanted to go after Redman, to shove his knife through the man's throat so he would never have to worry about him again, but all Tony could do was lie there, pulling in deep, slightly sawdusty gulps of air to try to sate his starved lungs.

He had just barely gotten his breath back when it was stolen again by the sound of the front door opening. _Why the fuck won't you just leave me alone? _Tony thought, his hand closing around the knife that would be no match for Jason's Glock.

"Tony!"

He blinked, feeling sawdust stuck to his cheek, and he wondered if his oxygen-deprived brain had imagined that shout of Gibbs' voice from the floor above him.

The next words he heard were softer, but no less confusing because they definitely sounded like Gibbs.

"Where is he?" Gibbs growled. "Never mind."

There was a muffled smack and then a thump directly above him, and Tony wished he could get his body to cooperate—and stop hallucinating.

He felt hands on his body, and when Tony opened his eyes, he found icy blue ones staring at him with some combination of fear and pain and relief and rage.

Tony opened his mouth with no idea what would actually come out, but Gibbs just shook his head.

"Shhh," he said, his eyes on the deep bruising at Tony's throat as he gently removed the noose from around his lover's neck. "Don't talk."

"Love you," Tony said anyway, his voice as rough as the frayed rope.

Gibbs smiled, closing his eyes and allowing himself a quick shudder of relief. "You ever going to start listening to me?"

Tony shook his head slowly, feeling pain flare at his temples with even the tiny movement.

"Good," Gibbs said, his hand on Tony's dusty cheek, blue eyes darkening with shame and regret. "I say some really stupid things sometimes."

That got a small smile out of Tony, but his eyes flicked to the ceiling in question.

"He's napping on the living room floor," Gibbs answered. "Coulda told him he'd be more comfortable on the couch, but I doubt he would've listened to me."

"Not that couch," Tony joked hoarsely. He frowned, though, when he looked up and saw the tears shining in Gibbs' eyes. " 'M okay, Gibbs," he forced out from his sandpaper throat.

"I know," Gibbs said softly, his hand still on Tony's face. "And I know you didn't cheat. Ducky told me about your migraines but he never should have had to. I should have trusted you, given you a chance to explain. I'm so sorry I hurt you, Tony."

Gibbs put a gentle hand over Tony's mouth when he tried to speak. "Don't, okay? Not right now," he said, blinking away the tears and giving Tony a smile. "We have plenty of time to talk."

Tony nodded, his eyes moving to the ceiling again. And Gibbs read his fear. He didn't blame him—Tony had already once thought the bastard was out of his life, only to have him come back and hurt him all over again.

"I'll go cuff him to the toilet or something and call local PD," Gibbs said, standing but making no move to leave, unwilling to let Tony out of his sight so soon after almost losing him. Again.

Tony saw the hesitation—and the building rage as Gibbs turned his gaze to the stairs—and he started to peel himself up from the hard floor. His head swam dizzily, the pain there in a war with the stabbing in his ankle as he struggled to get to his feet. He felt a hand slide under his elbow and he was suddenly standing, injured foot resting lightly on his right boot as Gibbs held him close, letting them both get their bearings.

Tony finally picked his head up from Gibbs' shoulder and made a choked little noise that was supposed to be a sigh.

"I know. We should get moving," Gibbs said, looking down at Tony's feet. "Ankle?"

"Mmmm."

"Broken?"

Tony shook his head in the negative, and Gibbs slid under his right shoulder, helping Tony hop to the workbench.

"Stay put," Gibbs ordered. "Please?" he added.

Tony nodded and watched Gibbs take the stairs two at a time despite his bad knee. There was movement upstairs—the distinct sound of a body being dragged—and then a short phone call, and then Gibbs was back at his side faster than Tony could have imagined. Still, he practically dove back into Gibbs' arms, soaking up the warmth and safety of being held in his lover's arms.

"Come on," Gibbs said after a moment, pulling away reluctantly. "Let's get you upstairs. I'm taking you to the hospital once Metro gets here."

Tony made a hoarse sound of protest, but Gibbs ignored it, not needing to say a word to tell him fighting it was pointless.

Redman was conscious and yelling by the time Gibbs eased Tony onto the couch. The injured agent rubbed at his temples, his head aching from the knock against the leg of the sawhorse. Gibbs saw it and headed down the hallway, returning a moment later with Redman, cuffed and swearing—until Gibbs jabbed his gun into the cop's face and told him to shut it.

Redman just looked at the steadiness of the gun and then at Tony, giving him a glare. " 'Trash department', Tony?" He shook his head in disgust. "Cute."

Tony ignored the pain and grinned back. "He is, isn't he?"

Forcing the words from his damaged throat was painful—but the look on Jason's face was totally worth it. And the smile he got from Gibbs was pretty nice, too.

Redman's eyes landed on the giant TV and stack of DVDs. "So this is why I couldn't find you."

Tony felt a swift current of rage sweep through him. "Love to know the fucker who gave you my address."

"Personal contact," Redman said, shrugging—and getting a rough shake from Gibbs at the movement. "Couldn't exactly use official channels to find you. And you are a hard man to track down, Tony. I've had your address for weeks, but I only found out where you worked last night."

That morning's call to McGee suddenly made sense and Gibbs said, "You called to confirm his address. Really stupid considering whatever you planned to do to him."

"I'm about to get fired from Fairfax PD," Redman said, sounding suddenly tired. "Being a cop is my life. I could have made it through with Lilly and Joey and little Tony. But you took them away from me," he said, perking a little with his anger. But it was quickly gone as he realized Gibbs wasn't giving an inch. "I don't really care what happens to me."

Gibbs didn't have much time to think about what all that meant because two Metro PD cops showed up to take Redman into custody. Gibbs finished with them and sent them on their way, turning back to find Tony still sitting on the ratty couch, bruised and hurting in a such a variety of ways.

But he was also right where he belonged.

Gibbs cocked his head at him, finally processing Redman's words. "So he names a kid after you and then tries to kill you? Twice?" Gibbs shook his head and helped his lover up.

"Only you, Tony."


	11. Chapter 11

The benefits of being an injured federal agent, combined with Ducky's numerous connections, meant little waiting before Tony found himself sitting in front of a doctor. The doctor had already gently examined the ugly bruise at Tony's throat and was now giving him instructions on home treatment for his sprained ankle and a firm warning to return to the ER if he had any trouble breathing or felt sudden swelling in his throat.

"Life-threatening swelling can occur even hours after the initial trauma so make sure you come back immediately if anything starts feeling wrong," the doctor was saying.

Gibbs could tell Tony was barely listening and he wondered if it was out of trust that Gibbs was—or just a habit of ignoring doctors. He reached out and tapped Tony's shoulder, making the agent nod in response to the instruction.

The doctor's eyes narrowed on Tony's neck once more and he said, "Are you sure I can't convince you to stay overnight? You really should be monitored."

Tony shrugged and shook his head while Gibbs answered for him. "I'll be watching him."

The doctor raised an eyebrow, noting that Gibbs' hand stayed firmly on Tony's shoulder, his thumb absently stroking his collarbone. "You realize he needs to be monitored 24/7?"

"Understood," Gibbs said.

There was disapproval in the man's eyes as he asked, his tone condescending, "You gonna sleep with him?"

Gibbs ignored both Tony's attempt to shrug off his hand and his warning look, and he slid his arm around his partner.

"Yep."

The doctor blinked in surprise, then left without even trying again to insist Tony take crutches for his ankle. Gibbs let him go. Let the bigots be; it's the tolerant who will change the world.

Gibbs turned and held out his hand as Tony slid off the table, and he wasn't entirely surprised when his injured lover ignored him. Tony had been nearly silent through the examination—not shocking considering the damage to his throat—but Gibbs had also sensed Tony's withdrawal, his subtle ways of distancing himself that had nothing to do with hiding their relationship. Anyone else might have thought it was just Tony being annoyed with the poking and prodding and questions, but Gibbs knew it was more.

Unfortunately, he also knew exactly what that "it" was. Tony was pissed at him, his relief at escaping his vengeful former partner fading and allowing his anger to resurface.

Gibbs waited until they were in the car to address that anger.

"You have every right to be pissed at me," he said, glancing sideways at his silent passenger.

The bold statement took a bit of wind out of Tony's sails and he found himself voicing an earlier thought instead of shouting that of course he was pissed. "How could you think I'd do that to you?" he asked, his voice strained and rough as a pack-a-day smoker's.

Gibbs winced, keeping his eyes firmly on the road as Tony brought up a hand to his throat. "Maybe we should talk about this later," he said quietly, "when it's not hurting you to talk."

Tony made a sharp sound of disgust that ended in a hoarse little cough. "You really think it's going to hurt any less later?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper but still conveying his anger. "Take me home."

Gibbs shot a look at Tony. "I _am_ taking you home."

"My place," Tony clarified tightly.

Knowing this wasn't about bathrooms being closer to beds, Gibbs said, "You can't be alone tonight."

"Who said I would be?" Tony rasped out. "And before you start thinking I'm planning on fucking a neighbor, I figured I could call Abby. Or Ducky."

The string of words had Tony's hand at his throat again, and Gibbs found himself wishing Tony would just give him the silent treatment. For a lot of reasons.

"Tony, I—"

"I don't even get why you still want to be with me," Tony said. "You obviously don't trust me."

"I do trust you," Gibbs said, wishing he had waited until they were out of the car to start this. He just wanted to touch his lover, find a way to make him understand. "I just—"

"Didn't last night? What changed?" Tony's eyes moved from the window to Gibbs' profile. "My partner coming to kill me doesn't exactly give you reason to trust me."

Gibbs met his gaze, incredulous. "Whatever he thinks you did to take his family from him, I know you didn't do it."

Tony shook his head, smiling sadly. "You don't even know what he accused me of, but you have complete faith that whatever it was, I didn't do it? But you don't trust me enough to know I would never hurt you by fucking around behind your back? That's…" Tony swallowed carefully, pain written plainly across his face. "That's just great. Should I thank you for that?"

"I don't want you to thank me, Tony," Gibbs said, his words just as pained, "I want you to forgive me."

Tony didn't speak right away, and Gibbs took his silence as a resounding "no."

"We're investigators," Gibbs said. "We're trained to look for patterns, and you had a long-established pattern of changing lovers like you change your socks. But I should have trusted you when you told me you were happy with being mine—and only mine. But when I was standing in that hall last night, wondering why you didn't want me around when you were sick, and I heard those noises… Just the thought of someone putting their hands on you made me so angry I could barely think straight. And I didn't think of any other possibility. It was stupid—for an investigator _and _for a boyfriend. I'm sorry, Tony."

The car was silent for a long stretch of highway.

Tony saw Gibbs was taking him to his apartment and it made him remember he had left that morning with the intention of finding Gibbs and apologizing. Tony suddenly had the forgiveness he would gladly have begged for and he wondered why it had taken him this long to get angry. He figured it had something to do with his long-held beliefs that all good things in his life turned to shit eventually.

"Tony?" Gibbs said, his slight trepidation reminding Tony that Gibbs had put himself out there and Tony hadn't said a word.

With thoughts of that rope around his neck and everything he had come so close to losing, Tony said, "I want to go home." He turned to Gibbs and held up a hand to stop the onslaught. "Your home. _Our _home."

Gibbs nodded, sensing the small victory was not a win in the war. He drove, both men silent until they reached Gibbs' comfortable suburban home. Tony didn't wait to pull his tired body from the car, but he allowed Gibbs' hand under his elbow as he limped his way up the front walk. There were times when Tony looked at this house and wished he'd never met Gibbs—but only because those wishes included a life where Shannon and Kelly had never died, and Gibbs had never joined NCIS. Tony gently pushed aside the idealized life he sometimes imagined for them, feeling a shiver run through his body as they walked inside and he remembered he had almost become another of Gibbs' ghosts.

The memories of Jason's wild eyes had Tony stopping suddenly, turning to Gibbs with a troubled expression. "Where would we be right now if he hadn't tried to kill me?" He held up a hand, telling Gibbs he wasn't done even though his voice had given out at the end of the question.

Tony let Gibbs steer him to the old couch and he dropped gratefully onto the uncomfortable thing, for once not really caring about the spring poking him in the thigh. He plucked a pillow from the cushion beside him and shoved it under his throbbing ankle, brushing off Gibbs' help because he was still unsure of how he felt about… well, everything. Once settled, he let his head fall back as Gibbs sat beside him, close but not touching.

"Would you have said something?" Tony asked. "Or would I have come here tonight to find my stuff on the curb?"

"I should have asked you—"

"I know," Tony cut him off. "I know you know you screwed up. But that still doesn't tell me why."

Gibbs thought about that for a moment, and then he rubbed his hands over his face and said, "You're so damned guarded."

Tony heard the frustration in his voice, but he just nodded slowly. "You knew that going into this."

"Yeah," Gibbs said, not exactly agreeing or disagreeing. "I knew Anthony DiNozzo is rarely the person he wants everyone to think he is. But I thought _you_ would be different with _me_, Tony. You're mine. And I want all of you, good or bad. Or ugly. Even if it's as ugly as whatever he did to you in that alley that night," he finished quietly.

"That again," Tony said, sighing and shaking his head. "Why does that matter so much to you?"

"That night," Gibbs said, waiting until Tony met his eyes, "was probably the worst night of your life."

Tony's jaw tightened and he looked away, muttering, "One of 'em."

"Exactly," Gibbs said, reaching out and laying a hand on Tony's arm. "You know exactly what happened on the worst day of my life. And I don't even know half the story of even _one_ of your worst."

Tony didn't speak. He just stared down at Gibbs' hand on him, his touch warm on his skin.

"It's not what you don't share with me, Tony," Gibbs said, moving his hand and seeing Tony's eyes close at the loss of contact. But still he kept his hand away and said, "It's _that_ you don't share it with me. That you _won't_ share it."

Tony drew a shuddery breath, but he still didn't speak, his mind racing. If his ankle weren't currently ablaze with pain, he probably would have run away.

"If you won't share with me the ugly things in your past, how am I supposed to believe you'll let me in now?" Gibbs slid closer, putting a gentle hand on Tony's cheek and forcing green eyes to his. "Hell, Tony. You couldn't even tell me he threatened you."

Tony froze, his gaze going guilty as it skittered away. "You saw that, huh?"

Gibbs nodded and dropped his hand. "Fell out of a stack of ads when I picked up your mail a few weeks back." He paused, watching Tony's face carefully. "I didn't go through your mail."

Tony shrugged. He knew that. "Wouldn't care if you did." His smile went slightly bitter as he thought about Gibbs' stinging accusation. "I don't have anything to hide from you."

Gibbs ignored the barb and raised an eyebrow. "Hid his threat from me." Tony didn't respond, and Gibbs shook his head. "And don't even tell me you didn't know what it was. 'Can't wait to beat you at the alley again' on a bowling postcard. Unsigned. At least the guy's got half a brain."

"Bit of a dark sense of humor, too," Tony said, his smile just as dark.

"But you never said a word to me about it," Gibbs said, his eyes flashing. "Not even when we talked about him moving close by."

"Would it have changed anything?" Tony asked tiredly.

"I don't know. But if you couldn't trust me with a threat on your damned life…" Gibbs searched Tony's eyes, watching understanding slowly blooming there. "Yeah, I kept pushing you for details on what happened in that alley, hoping you would just tell me that he threatened you. But you never did. Goddamn, Tony, what if your plan had failed? What if he stayed until you were nothing but a corpse hanging from that rope?"

Tony shrugged. "He was always squeamish. I knew he wouldn't want to stay, that he'd take the out I 'offered' him."

Gibbs closed his eyes, bristling at the casual tone coming from his lover's damaged throat. "And if he didn't buy your suicide plan? If he'd put a bullet through your head instead?" Gibbs swallowed hard before he could continue. "If I'd walked down those stairs and found you—at the end of a rope or with a bullet in your head, Tony—and knowing the last thing I said to you—"

"Hey," Tony said, hearing the panic and despair in those words. He slid closer, his arms going around the trembling body beside him. "I'm right here. I'm fine."

Gibbs sighed, squeezing back tightly and taking a moment to just hold on, his need to protect what was his overriding everything else. He realized with a faint blush that he was clinging to Tony and shifted so his head was against Gibbs' shoulder. He was grateful Tony wasn't fighting him even though his lover wasn't quite relaxed in his embrace.

They stayed that way, silently, for a long time, and Tony felt all of his anger melting away. This was where he wanted to be, and if they both had to bend a little to keep what they had from breaking, Tony figured it was worth it.

"I trust you," Tony said, not moving. "Always have. Always will."

"I trust you too, Tony, and I'm sorry I ever doubted you," Gibbs said without hesitation, and he felt the last of the tension drain from Tony's body as he settled in, stretching out with his back to Gibbs' chest.

After a long moment, Tony gave his damaged throat a painful clearing and started speaking. "We were out one night, after a department softball game—"

"You don't have to—"

"Yes, I do," Tony said firmly, even if half his words came out as croaks. "No secrets, okay?"

"Okay," Gibbs agreed, his hand trailing down the side of Tony's face and ghosting over his bruised skin. "But maybe this should wait?"

"Sounds worse than it is," Tony said. He ignored Gibbs' snorted comment on that and continued, his voice barely above an abused whisper. "We had a hell of a game—"

"Tony," Gibbs interrupted with a smile. "You can save how many homers you hit that night—"

"Three."

"—and just tell me the rest," Gibbs finished with an even bigger grin. The smile faded and he said quietly, "You don't have to tell me _everything_. Especially if it hurts. But I'll listen if you want to."

Tony caught the double meaning in that and nodded, finding Gibbs' hand on the cushion beside them and giving it a squeeze. He pulled that hand in front of him—dragging Gibbs' arm more tightly around him—and he traced the calluses in the work-roughened fingers as he spoke, pausing occasionally to rest his voice.

"So we were all pretty blitzed after a good game, what with obliterating our rivals and all. Jay was drinking, which he didn't always do, having a kid and another on the way and all that. His wife Lilly was great about picking our drunk asses up, but she was getting pretty big at that point and was having a rough time so I told Jay one of us should slow down. He said not to worry about it because a couple of his friends were meeting us later and the one guy didn't drink. So I stopped worrying and tossed back a few more shots—celebration shots, you know?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes, but he didn't cut off the rambling. He knew this was going to be hard on Tony, and he appreciated his lover reliving a brutal experience just for his own peace of mind.

"So later, these friends show up—and don't ask me their names because I still don't know who they were or how they knew Jay—and the one guy is so smokin' hot that I almost forgot where I was and who I was with."

Tony stopped, swallowing painfully and raising his hand from Gibbs' to his throat. He twisted and grinned up at Gibbs and said, "But not nearly as hot as you."

Gibbs ignored the words but not the gesture. "You want some water?"

Tony grimaced at the thought. "Even water feels like glass going down." He settled back in and picked up Gibbs' hand again, this time drawing lazy loops on his palm. "I still don't know if it was a test or not. But I know I passed if it was. I was terrified back then of anyone finding out I wasn't as straight as I claimed so I was careful. Ridiculously careful, now that I think about it. But I did what I had to do to stay safe."

Gibbs felt a small shudder run through Tony's body and he thought about stopping him. But Tony just soldiered on before he could say a word. "At least I thought I was safe. Can't believe how wrong I was… I mean, I even thought about telling Jay a couple of times, because he just didn't seem the type to give a shit about things like that. He is… well, he was a hell of a cop. The kind of partner you never had to check to make sure he had your back. I just knew he'd be there. I guess I was wrong about that, too."

The bitterness and pain in Tony's voice made Gibbs realize the beating had probably been the easier part for Tony to take that night. The betrayal, though, had left wounds that were still unhealed, unable to form tough scars because they were still bleeding. Gibbs suddenly remembered Ducky's words about not needing to hear about every punch or broken bone to know what happened.

"Hey," Gibbs said. "I get it now. You don't have to do this."

"If that were all of it, I might let it go there," Tony said darkly, realizing he wanted to get this out. "So Jay and these friends decide they want to go somewhere else. It was almost last call so everyone else stayed, but I was drunk and would have followed my partner to the ends of the earth so I went with them. I rode with Jay and the other friends took one of their cars. No lecture needed—I was too drunk to realize how drunk Jay _wasn't._ He put on a good show all night, but he was stone fucking sober when he pulled over and gave me the strangest look I'd ever seen. Said he wanted to talk to me. I said I might puke so we got out of the car and went to stand against a building to get out of the wind. He looked nervous, or confused, or something… I finally just told him to spill it. And he did."

He slid sideways in Gibbs' arms and looked up, his green eyes so full of pain that Gibbs pressed his lips to Tony's. The kiss was as gentle as Gibbs' voice when he finally spoke. "Don't, okay? It's not worth you going through this again."

Tony shook his head. "No. You're worth this." He drew a breath and smiled without humor. "He told me he was in love with me."

Gibbs suddenly knew everything Tony was about to say, and it made him sick. Even the sudden insight into Tony's personality wasn't worth this. But Tony just continued, recounting his partner's lies.

"He said he was going to leave Lilly for me," Tony said, coughing a harsh little laugh. "I should have known then that something was really wrong. Lilly is an amazing person—just perfect in every way. Funny and smart, strong and beautiful. And damn could she cook." Tony's smile was short-lived and his grip tightened on Gibbs' hands. "But as much as I loved her, it was like, I guess how you'd love a sister. But him... I had such a crush on him, but I thought he was straight as can be. At least I was right about that."

Gibbs could feel Tony's uneven breathing and waited patiently while his lover gathered his thoughts.

"But he really sold it, told me he'd already told Lilly he was leaving because he was in love with me, and I was already head over heels in love with him so I just stupidly believed all of my dreams were coming true." Tony closed his eyes. "He told me to kiss him. 'Just so I can be sure,' he said. I should have known how strange that sounded but I was piss drunk and thinking I had finally found someone who could love me."

"I love you, Tony," Gibbs said firmly, holding on tight and stroking a calming hand down Tony's arm.

Tony exhaled with a nod. "I know. I love you, too." He let Gibbs' touch soothe him enough to tell the rest of the story, the words coming easier as he described the physical pain he suffered that night. "As soon as I kissed him, the second my lips touched his, he drew back and belted me. Broke my nose so I was too busy spitting blood to notice that his friends were back. I was too drunk and stunned to run. Not that it would have mattered. I think Jay would have chased me to hell and back for _betraying _him like that."

"I hope I don't need to tell you it wasn't your fault," Gibbs said quietly.

"I know," Tony said, rolling his head back and looking up at Gibbs with a thoughtful expression. "And thank you. But since you're new at this, you don't know what it's like to be told you're bad or disgusting just for acting on urges that come completely naturally to you. My body doesn't know the difference between a hot girl and a hot guy—it reacts the same way to both. I thought that _was_ normal. For a while. I got disowned at twelve because my father found out the Sam I was playing doctor with was a Samuel, not a Samantha."

Gibbs felt his hands clench into fists, but he forced himself to relax when he felt Tony's body tensing in time with his. He couldn't help smiling a little as Tony gently uncurled his fingers, splaying them one by one across his belly as he spoke.

"The biggest of the three grabbed me," Tony said, his throat aching and knowing he sounded like shit but still wanting to get all of it out—for him and for Gibbs. "They cuffed my hands behind my back—with my own damn cuffs. Talk about embarrassing…" Tony huffed out a soft breath, tracing Gibbs' fingers with his own, now trembling slightly. "I'm really not sure what was more painful: them pounding the crap out of me or the things they said, the things they called me. Jay had always practically relived his single days through me and my 'conquests', as he called them. But now, between his sucker punches, he was calling me a whore and a slut and a piece of filth. The damned hot guy asked me if I wanted to fuck him."

Gibbs braced, knowing Tony's mouth. In a lot of ways, now.

"Yeah," Tony confirmed, having felt the tension in the body he was half-lying on. "I said yes. Told him in graphic detail exactly what I wanted to do to him. He broke my jaw. Hairline fracture, I found out later, but it shut me up pretty good. Goddamn, that hurt. And without my smart mouth to keep my mind off the fact that this was Jay, my fucking partner, beating me senseless, I started really listening to what they were saying. So between 'dirty faggot' and 'queer' and 'sick fucking piece of shit', I heard Jay tell me to stay away from Joey—his little boy. Kid called me 'Uncle T' and I'd picked him up from school a dozen times, but because I was gay, suddenly I was a pedophile, too."

Gibbs heard the disgust in Tony's voice, but he didn't know what to say. He had never been tormented because of his orientation, but Tony had—more than once, and by people who should have had his back. So Gibbs just held him close, his hands still resting protectively on Tony's stomach as he let him talk.

"I told him that wasn't how it worked and to fuck off, but it didn't make any difference. I doubt they could have understood me even if my words didn't sound like mush. So they kept hitting me. I swear it felt like every one of Jay's punches was twice as hard, even though he wasn't the biggest guy there."

The disgust was gone, and all Gibbs could hear was pain in Tony's rough voice. He felt a hand on his arm and realized he was squeezing too tightly because of his tension. He relaxed immediately—and he knew in that moment that he would never lay a hand on Tony. No matter how angry, or frustrated, or upset, Gibbs knew he would never even grab Tony roughly again, as he had during one of their early heated arguments. Just the thought of the faint red marks he had left on Tony's wrist that night made Gibbs want to go throw up from sheer regret and shame. He realized Tony was still talking and tried to make himself focus, even though the last thing he wanted was to listen to how much worse this could get.

"The big guy who had me by the arms finally let me drop to the ground when he got sick of holding me up. I couldn't have stood up if I tried. I could barely breathe because of the shit-ton of broken ribs." Tony paused, shaking his head. Gibbs could practically feel him fighting for control—and he knew the feeling well. He realized he should have put a bullet through Redman's head—and just maybe realized Tony had a very good reason to keep this story buried. "I remember lying there, listening to them asking me just how much I liked taking it in the ass, and I just wanted them to stop. Or just shoot me. I might have been begging. I don't really remember everything. I didn't realize I was crying until one of them pointed it out—Jay, of course. I do remember looking up at him, watching him crouch down beside me. I remember exactly what he looked like when I asked him to kill me."

Tony's thumbs were working Gibbs' clenched hands open again, and Gibbs couldn't help wondering how Tony was managing to soothe him when it should have been the other way around.

"He looked relieved," Tony said, massaging the tension out of his lover's rough hands. "I think he was waiting for me to ask for it. Like there was still some shred of decency because we were partners or something. I don't know. Maybe he's just a sick fuck. He would have shot me—with my own gun no less. Some young couple saved my life. Came walking through and saw Jay with my gun and the woman started screaming bloody murder." Tony laughed without mirth. "Close, but I wasn't quite dead yet. The guys ran off, but Jay stayed. He calmed the couple down and tucked my gun into his pocket. I don't know if he would have killed them if I had started talking."

"If you even could have," Gibbs muttered darkly, unconsciously touching Tony's face and thinking about how hard you had to punch someone to break a jaw.

"Right," Tony said, reaching up to gently bring the stray hand back down, shivering as it brushed long-healed ribs even though he knew these hands would never hurt him. "That bastard spun some tale about running off muggers and he held my fucking hand all the way to the hospital—all the while hoping I'd die on the way there. He played protective partner with the doctors and everything, threatening everyone in sight to take good care of me, because I was his _partner_, dammit."

Gibbs knew instinctively that those wounds inflicted by feigned caring were some of Tony's deepest. He caught Tony's massaging hands and returned the favor, his touch light and gentle as he stroked the tension from the long fingers. He figured Tony might be done talking but he still had one question that he had to ask—and he knew by Tony's long sigh that he was expecting it.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Gibbs asked, careful to keep his tone perfectly neutral. He knew this had taken a lot of out Tony, and Gibbs was hurting for him. There was no reason to add to that pain. "Why not tell everyone who would listen what that bastard did to you?"

"Lilly," Tony said simply.

Gibbs had to think for a moment, backtracking through betrayal and lies and broken bones to find the answer. "The pregnant wife you loved like a sister."

Tony nodded, wincing at the pain in his bruised neck and knowing it would be worse in the morning. "She was seven months into a difficult pregnancy and she had already almost lost the baby twice."

"The baby they named after you," Gibbs said, sounding disgusted but trying to keep a lid on it.

"Yep" was all Tony said.

"And no one questioned his story?" Gibbs asked.

Tony heard the investigator's voice in that, but he just said, "I was too out of it at first for them to ask me and they had no reason to because my partner was doing all the talking. I'm glad for that, I think." He gently swatted Gibbs' hand as it started to tighten into a fist. "She was upset enough as it was, Gibbs, seeing me like that. My face was a mess—bruised and swollen and I ended up with a mouthful of stitches. It wasn't pretty," he said softly, his fingers trailing over Gibbs' fist. "But you know that. I'm guessing you looked up the official report on my 'mugging'?"

"I know every bone he broke, every bruise and every stitch," Gibbs said tightly. He ran his hands up over Tony's ribs and back down over his chest and belly. "I know every mark he put on your body."

Tony heard the barely controlled fury and he realized he had never felt more safe and loved and protected—and also why Gibbs had called Metro instead of taking it as an NCIS case against one of its agents. "You turned him over so you wouldn't go kill him later."

"Yep," Gibbs agreed. He thought about the favors owed him by various Metro officers but he forced those thoughts away. "No one questioned the bruises on his hands?"

"He said he fought one of the attackers," Tony said, answering the questions because he knew he wanted to lay this night to rest, piss on its grave and walk away. "The couple had been drinking. It was dark. They had the word of one of Peoria's finest."

"And you weren't saying otherwise."

"No," Tony said, surprised at the lack of judgment in those words. "I couldn't do that to her. I knew I could leave, find another department, a new life. I couldn't make her pay for my mistakes."

"Tony—"

"No, Gibbs," he said softly. "I should have told him. First because I was his partner and partners shouldn't have secrets, and second because I should have protected myself. I should have told him in front of witnesses and gauged his reaction. I'd have known if it was going to be a problem later. I'm good at reading people."

"That you are," Gibbs said, dropping a kiss on Tony's cheek. He smiled. "Hell, you even knew I liked men before I did."

"All men?" Tony asked, his tone mock outraged—but really he was grateful for the levity.

"Just this one," Gibbs returned, slouching down again and trying to get comfortable.

"Couch sucks," Tony said, realizing how much it still hurt to talk, even when the subject wasn't painful at all.

"We'll go find a new one once that ankle's better," Gibbs said, smiling. "I'm guessing you're the type to try out fifty before you go back and buy the first one?"

Tony's laugh turned into a cough. "Yeah, maybe." He paused for a moment, feeling that Gibbs' body wasn't completed relaxed under his. "Just ask. I'd rather get it all out tonight and bury it again."

Gibbs smiled, but he shook his head and asked, "How did you do it? Lie there in that hospital bed and let him hold your hand?"

"I also let him spew a bunch of bull about catching the bastards who hurt me," Tony said, sighing. "But the answer to your question is good drugs and being good at pretending. I had a lot of practice pretending my father didn't hate me for simply being who I am, pretending I would be spending holidays with him instead of sitting at school while all the other boys went home to their families. So I just pretended Jay and Lilly were still the same people who had welcomed me into their family not that long before. And she still was—she's the one who got me through it. All I remember from the first few days is her voice, her hand on mine, telling me everything would be okay. I remember being barely conscious and she would put my hand on her belly and tell me little Anthony needed his Uncle T so I had to be okay. And I believed her. She's just one of those people that you believe, you know?"

"Mmmm," Gibbs said, thinking about Shannon—specifically her in labor with Kelly, telling _him_ everything would be fine. And it had been. While it had lasted. Gibbs smiled even though he still felt their loss like it was yesterday—but the smile remained because he had found that more and more of his memories were happy ones now that he was finally happy again. He had never imagined it would be because of the man lying in his arms, but he didn't care as long as he got to remember radiant smiles instead of tearful faces begging him not to go. "So Lilly found out what he did to you and that's what sent him after you now?"

Tony nodded, not surprised Gibbs had figured it out. "I've kept tabs on her all these years. In the back of my head I've always been terrified he would turn on her or the boys," Tony admitted softly. He was glad he wasn't looking at Gibbs as he said, "Makes me wonder who I was protecting back then."

"Hey," Gibbs said, sitting up and gently turning Tony to face him. "Even if you were protecting yourself, then that's what you needed to do. You can't blame yourself for that."

"I could have told her," Tony said stubbornly, "even if it was after the baby."

"I can guess why you didn't," Gibbs said sympathetically, his heart twisting at Tony's wry smile. "She wouldn't have believed you. He had everyone buying into his nice-guy act."

"And if I suddenly changed my story later, after I had already walked out of their lives," Tony said, nodding his agreement. "She hated me for that, for leaving with no real explanation. I don't blame her. Not one bit. And I wouldn't have blamed her."

"I know," Gibbs said, his eyes moving from Tony's tired face to his swollen ankle. He gave Tony a minute to say anything else he wanted to say before asking, "You ready to get some sleep?"

Tony ignored the question, his green eyes distressed. "I should have told her. If he had hurt her…"

"He didn't," Gibbs said immediately, before realizing he didn't know that for sure.

But Tony was shaking his head. "He didn't. I made a call at the hospital. She wanted to talk to me but I just hung up on her. I just couldn't… not right then."

Gibbs saw the guilt and he put a hand on Tony's shoulder. "It's okay to protect yourself, Tony. Especially when no one else is doing it for you." He felt the lingering tension and said, "You can call her back later. Right now you should sleep."

"Yeah," Tony said, letting Gibbs slide the pillow from under his foot. "Okay." He lowered his leg and winced at the return of the throbbing pain, glancing at the steps and giving a little groan. He was not looking forward to dragging himself upstairs.

A hand appeared in front of his face and Gibbs pulled him up to his feet. "Think I've got a pair of crutches up in the attic," Gibbs said, adding under his breath, "you stubborn ass."

"Nah," Tony said, relishing the strength in Gibbs' body as he helped him across the room. "I'd rather lean on you."

After half-hopping up the stairs, Tony turned to his lover, a bright smile chasing away the last of the shadows in his eyes. "I thought you liked my ass?"

Gibbs grinned and carefully lowered Tony onto their bed. "I love your ass." He frowned down at Tony's swollen ankle and looked back up at his bruised neck. "But I hate that you're so damned stubborn."

Tony gave him a good-natured eye-roll but he didn't speak until he was lying against Gibbs' side, their legs entwined and arms around each other. "I'm no more stubborn than you are." Gibbs' only response was a laugh, and it made Tony smile and nestle closer, soaking up the warmth of the body he was wrapped around. "Maybe I'm a little stubborn," he conceded, lifting a hand to draw random shapes on Gibbs' chest.

But Gibbs gently grabbed the wandering hand and tucked it against him. "Sleep," he commanded softly, knowing it had been a long couple of days—for both of them.

Tony closed his eyes, and he ignored the pain in his throat to rasp out, "You know, if I hadn't been so stubborn, none of this would have happened."

Gibbs considered that for a moment before giving a shrug of the shoulder Tony wasn't resting on. "Maybe next time you'll tell me when someone threatens your life," he said lightly even as he tightened his arm around the warm body beside him.

"Will do," Tony agreed, pausing and letting out a long breath. "But that wasn't exactly what I meant."

Gibbs waited patiently, knowing the words to come weren't just physically hard to get out.

"The whole time I was lying there—in the damned hallway no less—I was imagining this," he said, squeezing tightly. "I kept thinking if I had just told you what was going on, you would have been there and I wouldn't have been lying there alone, hoping the migraine would just kill me already."

Gibbs stroked a hand lightly through Tony's hair in belated comfort for his suffering. "I'm sorry I wasn't there," he said softly.

Tony looked up at him with a wry smile. "Didn't I just say it was my fault?"

"Wasn't _just_ your fault," Gibbs said, tapping a finger to Tony's lips. "I should have known something was wrong when I heard you moaning like that."

Tony raised an eyebrow and shook his head, dislodging the finger. "_That's_ why you thought I was with someone else?"

If Gibbs were the blushing type, his cheeks would have been fire-engine red. "I… I remember thinking I've never made you sound like that, you know… when we…"

"Fuck?" Tony supplied helpfully, with a grin. He nodded. "This is totally all my fault. It's because I asked you to handcuff me that one time, isn't it?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes and put his finger back over Tony's mouth. "We're done talking about blame. And you're done talking, period. It hurts to _listen_ to you."

"But we could get furry ones—"

Gibbs pressed his finger harder against Tony's lips and he asked, "What's it gonna take to get you to stop that?"

Tony grinned, taking a playful nip at Gibbs' fingertip. "I can think of one thing."

"You're impossible, you know that?" Gibbs shook his head with a smile, feeling Tony's hand sliding over his hip. "Really, Tony? Aren't you tired?"

Tony sighed and laid his head back on Gibbs' shoulder, his wandering hand coming back up to rest in the silvery nest of hair on his lover's chest. "Yeah, dead tired," he admitted, but he didn't try to hide his smile. He knew he was where he belonged and it just felt so _right. _"But I figured you'd spend all night worrying about me if I didn't at least try to jump you."

Gibbs laughed, feeling Tony's rough cheek against his side. "Yeah, I probably would have," he said, tenderly stroking that stubbled cheek and wishing Tony had chosen a different phrase other than "dead." He needed to distract himself from the could-have-beens, so he said, "So these migraines you get, they hurt like hell, huh?"

Tony grinned in the darkness, knowing he would never face one alone again.

"Nothing we can't handle together."


	12. Epilogue

***Three months later***

"Gibbs!"

He was in the basement, sanding away the frustration of being in the middle of a long, twisted investigation when he heard the shout. He was slightly annoyed that he had given in to Tony's repeated nudgings to let the team get some rest tonight, so he kept on at his soothing task and yelled, "What?"

He was met with silence for a moment, and then a thump, and he pictured Tony dropping onto their new, soft—and really comfortable, he had to admit—couch upstairs. Gibbs read the silence correctly this time, and he dropped the hand sander and ran up the stairs, quickly moving into the living room and finding Tony curled up on the big plush couch.

"Tony?"

Gibbs immediately recognized his partner's low moan of pain and realized he should stick to whispering. He took in the pillow covering Tony's face and turned out the overhead light.

"God I love you," came Tony's muffled voice.

Gibbs smiled at that as he crossed the room to pull the heavy shades he had installed after their talk about just how bad the migraines could get—after he made Tony recount every symptom he had ever had. The smile dropped off his face as he caught sight of Tony's hands, balled into shaking fists as he fought the pain. Gibbs pulled down the last shade and went to retrieve the case of needles from a drawer in the kitchen. He grabbed the small flashlight he had put there, too, remembering Tony's almost shy smile at the care Gibbs was putting into his emergency plan.

"_What?" Gibbs had asked. "Every op needs a good plan." _

Returning to the couch, Gibbs sat beside Tony's curled body and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, frowning hard at the tremors he felt there.

Tony sighed in relief, equally glad to have Gibbs and his needles nearby. He remembered lying on his bathroom floor three months before and blindly jabbing the needle into his stomach, all the while longing for Gibbs' touch so fiercely it had hurt about as much as his head. He rolled onto his back, not bothering to stop the soft moan at the change in position, and he was suddenly immensely grateful Gibbs had ignored his protests and demanded a "dry run" of how to give the injection. Just the thought of speaking that many words now was enough to make Tony gag, and he felt Gibbs' hand settle gently on his, resting on his churning belly.

Gibbs reluctantly broke the contact to pull Tony's shirt up and out of the way, and as he flattened his trembling hand on his lover's stomach, he breathed a small sigh at Tony's hand on his, giving him the reassurance he needed to do this. Gibbs used the alcohol wipe and then took another breath before sliding the needle into Tony's skin, hating that he had to hurt him to help him.

Tony didn't flinch at the sting of the needle, but he felt Gibbs' hand grasp his anyway. The soft clink of the syringe hitting the table echoed like a gunshot inside his splitting head and Tony gave a quiet gasp, his body jerking as white lights exploded behind his closed lids.

Gibbs' free hand moved to the back of Tony's neck and he massaged lightly, wishing like hell there was something more he could do to ease his partner's suffering. He didn't speak, didn't apologize for the sound of the needle—so soft he had barely heard it. With that, he realized just how bad these migraines really were, and it made a knot form in his chest as he imagined Tony, three months ago, lying alone in his apartment and struggling through this kind of pain while Gibbs stood not three feet away.

He swallowed his guilt and focused on the man beside him, who had curled up again, pressing his face into the soft cushions of the couch. Gibbs moved his hand to Tony's back and asked in a whisper, "What can I do?"

Tony's answer was either "Shhhhhh" or a hiss of pain, and Gibbs simply nodded. He had always believed actions spoke louder than any words so he slid down, moving Tony in slow increments until they were both horizontal. Tony was half-lying on Gibbs' chest, his face buried in his lover's neck as he tried not to scream the agony out of his head. Gibbs' hand on his back was soothing, and the gentle, even strokes down his spine made him realize it had been a long time since someone had been there to help him through the pain. He tightened the arm he had slung over Gibbs' middle and wondered how he would ever make himself let go.

"Thank you," he whispered against silver scruff.

Gibbs could feel the tension in the muscles quivering under his hand, but he didn't know if it was from the headache or the emotion he could hear in Tony's voice. "Of course," Gibbs breathed. "I love you, Tony."

Tony pulled his hand from under Gibbs' shoulder and rested it on his chest, his thumb, index and little fingers extended in the sign language indication for "I love you."

Gibbs smiled even though his lover's ragged breathing was making his own chest hurt, and he covered Tony's hand with his and gave it a squeeze.

Tony returned the squeeze with a fierceness that made Gibbs wonder how long before the medication would start to take the edge off his suffering. He kicked himself for forgetting to ask during the dry run, but he kept his mouth shut and resumed the long, regular strokes with his free hand. He ignored too the crushing grip Tony had on him because he knew the slight ache in his fingers was nothing compared to the agony in Tony's head. Gibbs would gladly trade places with his gasping partner if there were a way.

The harsh gasps gave way slowly—too slowly for Gibbs' impatience—to more even breathing punctuated by the occasional shuddery sigh, but Gibbs' hand never stopped or slowed its gentle tracks up and down Tony's spine.

"I hate this," Tony whispered, wincing at the broken silence.

"Yeah," Gibbs said, keeping his voice as low as possible. "Me too."

They lay quietly for a while, Gibbs unwilling to speak until Tony's breathing was back to normal. Not surprisingly, it was Tony who first spoke.

"But this is kinda nice."

Gibbs grinned, his hand still tracing vertebrae even though there was no longer any pain in Tony's voice. "We do this all the time," he said, still whispering as though afraid to reawaken the agony with too-loud words.

"Yeah," Tony agreed, his lips soft against Gibbs' neck, "but I'm not usually on drugs while we do it."

Gibbs held in his chuckle at that—but he couldn't stop his soft rumble of laughter at Tony's squawk when Gibbs pinched him hard on the ass.

"Hell was that?" Tony asked, squinting in the dark to try to see Gibbs' face.

"Didn't dare headslap ya?"

Tony laughed, the light, pain-free sound music to Gibbs' ears. "Fine," he said, dropping a kiss on Gibbs' smiling mouth. "Just don't make a habit out of it."

"Yes, sir," Gibbs said, giving a sloppy salute and watching Tony's green eyes glow with mischief. "What?" he asked, unable to read the look.

"You still have your dress blues, Marine?"

"You are impossible," Gibbs said, shaking his head. "You should rest."

"You should fuck me," Tony suggested, undeterred.

Gibbs gave him a thoughtful frown, but before he could open his mouth, Tony looked up at him with a grin. "You're thinking about it right now, aren't you?" His hands started wandering and the grin got wider. "Yep. You're thinking about fucking me into tomorrow."

The frown deepened. "Why do you always put it that way? It sounds so…"

Tony rolled his eyes, sighing and then focusing on Gibbs' face, batting his eyelashes dramatically. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs, will you make slow, sweet love to me?"

Gibbs' laugh turned to a groan at the magic Tony was working with his skilled hands. "I think," Gibbs said with a slight pant, "we should stick to fucking."

Tony grinned again and returned Gibbs' sloppy salute.

"You're the boss."


End file.
